


Hate is Always Foolish and Love is Always Wise

by bossxtweed



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Drowning, Drug Use, F/M, Human AU, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Memory Loss, Menstruation, Near Death Experiences, Season/Series 10, The Deca (DW), University AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:33:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24989125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bossxtweed/pseuds/bossxtweed
Summary: A season 10 AU in which Missy and 12 come to an agreement similar to the one made in Big Finish’s “Master” Audio (w/o Death involved): Missy will live as human for ten years with the Doctor monitoring her to see if she’s capable of doing good on her own, or if her evilness is something immutable and inherent.Comments are much appreciated!
Relationships: Thoschei - Relationship, Twelfth Doctor/Missy
Comments: 14
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

“ _Teach me how to be good,”_ the Mistress had pleaded, wanting nothing more than to stand beside her oldest friend in the universe. “I **_can_ **be good!”

After fleeing the execution, the Doctor and Master sit down to discuss the terms of her _imprisonment._ The _Vault_ would only come into use if **_absolutely necessary_** **\--** and _neither_ of them want it to be, so instead they sit outside a cafe, drinking warm beverages (sugar-filled tea for the Doctor, sugar-filled coffee for Missy) and formulating a plan.

To Missy’s chagrin, _Nardole_ accompanies them. Ever since River’s death, he is **_always_ ** there, _trying_ to keep the Doctor sane and honest, but mostly he succeeds in _making the Doctor_ **_cross_ ** because he never knows when to **_stop talking._ **

“You’ll be _human,_ Missy,” the Doctor’s voice is firm, yet not unkind. “You _do_ realize what all that entails, don’t you?”

She smiles and busies herself with her mug. “Yes, yes-- _one_ heart and _one_ brain and even **_worse_ **migraines because of it.”

“I wish there was some way I could help you there, Missy. A way to alleviate your pain…”

She lifts her gaze to meet his and without hesitating, she says, “write me a _prescription,_ then. A bit of a **_buzz_ ** can do **_wonders.”_ **

He shakes his head. “No, I’m afraid I _can’t_ do that. You’re going to be a _professor,_ which means having everyone _look up to you,_ and the admin _generally_ frown upon their staff being high at work.”

She sighs. “Theta, **_please._ ** I _don’t_ trust aspirin, even if I’ll be human, and I--”

Nardole loudly clears his throat and interjects, “we’ll put that one down as a **_maybe,_ ** alright? What about _housing_ and all that? Can’t live on the TARDIS and claim to be an ‘ordinary human,’ can you?”

“We’ll get an _apartment,”_ the Doctor suggests.

Incredulous, Missy’s eyes widen and she asks, **_“We?_ **You mean--”

 **_“Yes,”_ **comes the curt reply. “You and me, Missy, just like at the academy---it’ll be easier for me to monitor your progress while we’re both together.” 

Nardole stares between them as neither of them speaks for several long, tense moments, and he sighs as Missy reaches out and takes one of the Doctor’s hands in her own. _It’s_ **_not fair,_ ** he thinks bitterly. _They both_ **_know_ ** _I’m bad at psychic communication!_

 _What about_ **_him?_ ** Missy asks, casting a withering look towards Nardole. **_Please_ ** _tell me he_ **_won’t_ ** _be living with us!_

_Across the hall, I should think. That’ll make it easier to carpool to work._

She frowns. _Hm. Alright, then. Now: How big of an apartment? One bedroom, or two? How will we portray ourselves to the public?_

 _Dr. and Dr._ **_Funkenstein,_ ** the Doctor smirks, but Missy balks at the suggestion and Nardole _chuckles,_ only for her to glare at him. 

_No._ **_Absolutely_ ** _nae! Think about Geni---oh!_ **_That’s_ ** _it!_

 **_What’s_ ** _it?_ he counters, quirking a brow.

_Braithwaite---stole it off a former member of my gentlemen’s club---it’s Geni’s legal last name._

_Oh? I thought it was_ **_Oakdown._ **

Smirking now, she shakes her head. _No. I thought that might make it a bit_ **_obvious_ ** _if you heard of a child with that last name---though it_ **_is_ ** _her second name. You know me: always wanting to leave a lasting legacy._

“You know,” Nardole cuts in, “I’m feeling _very_ left out of the conversation! Might I suggest: a two bedroom flat might be your best bet? That way the kid can have her own room and the two of you could _share…”_

“Oh!” the Doctor exclaims, snapping with his free hand. “I know! We’ll get **_bunk beds!”_ **

Missy blinks once before staring at him, thinking, _are you out of your bleedin’ mind?! We're_ **_nae_ ** _getting bunk beds!_

 _Why_ **_nae?!_ ** he counters. _That way we could always fight over who’s on top!_

She smacks his hand. _You_ **_naughty_ ** _boy!_

Nardole clears his throat loudly. “Oi! You two! Let me in on the conversation, why don’t you? I’m supposed to be the **_arbiter_ ** here, and you’ve been communicating _exclusively_ through **_psychic_ **means!”

“You’re **_nae_ ** coming over every day,” Missy asserts. “The pair of you can meet up in _your_ flat, or something. I don’t think Geni likes you.”

“Wonder if you’ll be **_nicer_ ** when you’re human,” Nardole mutters, and it is the _Doctor_ who reaches out and smacks him. 

LATER THAT DAY, Missy sits Genevieve down and begins to explain the situation, making sure to first assert that she loves her daughter **_very_ ** much, and this will provide a way for them to grow _closer--_ they’ll both be **_human,_ ** after all---and though her _personality_ might change, very little else would.

She and the Doctor will present themselves as a _married_ couple, and it will not matter if she calls him ‘dad’ or ‘Theta’ or just plan _‘Doctor,’_ although _legally_ he **_will_** be her step-father, a fact which Geni is not in the slightest bit pleased by. Her mum, no matter _what_ horrid things she does, will always be _just that:_ her **_mum._** Being _human,_ however, would change the very core of her being, and Geni dreads knowing that part of her mum is **_missing_** and being able to do **_nothing_** about it.

“You’ll be in school while we’re teaching at the University, and Nardole will pick you up and bring you home, keep an eye on you while we’re away… for the first few years, at least,” Missy begins, and when Genevieve makes to speak, her mum holds up an index finger and continues, “once you’re _fourteen,_ I think, you’ll be old enough to mind yourself---so long as you keep the door tightly _shut_ and don’t let _anyone_ in.” She leans in, wraps an arm around her daughter, and says, _“please,_ love. I… I think this will be **_good_ ** for all of us---I **_can_ ** be _good,_ under the right circumstances.”

Genevieve dips her head and sighs. “Mum, I’m **_scared._ **What if--”

Reading the rest of her question, Missy pulls her daughter into a tight hug and presses a kiss to the top of her head. “That will **_nae_ ** happen, love. You’ll **_always_ ** be my little girl, no matter---wait, no, sorry. If you realize you’re _no longer a girl,_ that would be okay, too---I think what I’m _trying_ to get at is: you’ll **_always_ **be my baby.”

Nardole and the Doctor leave the room, allowing mother and daughter to talk in private.

THAT NIGHT, once the Doctor and the Mistress have **_agreed_ ** on all of the the details ( _where_ they'll live, _what_ they’ll teach, _how long_ the test will last--- _10 years,_ an _entire_ **_decade_ **of human history, beginning during the year of Saxon’s election and ending in (or around) 2017), the four of them sit in one of the TARDIS’ kitchens, having one last hurrah before the big plunge.

“How do you feel?” the Doctor asks. He is leaning back in his chair and is, for all appearances, _relaxed_ about this whole situation, except his hearts are pounding in his chest and his throat is tight and breathing is difficult. He wipes away a loose tear, hoping no one will notice.

“Me?” Missy asks, as if the Doctor could have posed that question to _anyone._ “Well, I---to tell the truth,” she wraps her hands around her mug of tea, letting the warm ceramic burn her skin, “I--A’m _scared._ M’ life will be **_entirely_ ** in **_your_ **hands, Doctor, like it never has been before.” She lets out a sob and buries her face in her hands.

Without speaking, Genevieve wraps her arms around her mum, holding her tight.

“We’ll still be together, right, love?” Missy wraps her arms around her daughter. “We’ll be _aging_ together.”

Pulling back, Geni asks, “are you **_sure_** you want to do this? Are there **_no_** other tests?”

Missy twines one hand through her daughter’s and smiles sadly. “‘Fraid not, love. Time Lady me knows too many tricks and would find too many ways of manipulating the system. It can only be a fair test if I’m _human_ and starting fresh.”

The following night, once their apartments are furnished and their lesson plans are ready, Missy opens her pocket watch and undergoes cloaking. Her vision blacks out and she faints onto the sofa, overwhelmed by the intense pain of a migraine.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On her first day as a human, Missy wakes up with a horrible migraine.

The following morning, Missy Braithwaite wakes with a horrible pulsing in her head and she rolls over, burying her face in her pillow, though the very movement only makes things worse and she groans. What day is it? Yesterday was---was--- _odd._ She struggles to recall the previous day and gives up when it only worsens her pain.

Someone settles on the bed beside her and she inhales the currently too-strong scent of sugary lotion. “Geni, love?” her voice has a strong Scottish lilt to it and part of her wonders if she could pull off something a bit more _posh._ “‘s tha’ you?”

Dressed in an oversized t-shirt and a pair of shorts, the girl lays down on her stomach and twines the fingers of one hand through her mother’s. “Yes, mum. How are you feeling?”

Missy turns her head and offers an unconvincing smile. “I think today will be a _bad_ one. A ca’ barely **_think,_ ** let alone **_move!”_ **

“I could bring you medicine and water?” Geni offers. “I came in because Uncle Theta is cooking breakfast--- _pancakes_ and _eggs_ and I _think_ bacon, for Nardole.”

Missy inhales sharply before sighing. “Ah. I dinnae know if I ca’ _eat…”_

Without speaking, Geni presses a kiss to her mum’s cheek before slowly standing up and leaving the room. She stops in the kitchen first and fills a purple, insulated water bottle, and ignoring Nardole’s attempts to strike up a conversation (this is all **_his_ ** fault), she takes a bottle of ibuprofen from the bathroom’s medicine cabinet before returning to her mum.

“I’ve got water and medicine---how much would you like?” she asks.

Missy groans before replying, “four? I need a _lot_ if I wan’ this to go away.”

She winces as the cap turns and pills are poured into her daughter’s hand. Forcing herself to sit up, Missy accepts the pills and swallows them dry, then takes the bottle and gulps down water, her body screaming for want of hydration.

After setting the bottle on the bedside table, Missy lays back down and reburies her face in her pillow. “Wha’ day’s it?”

“Saturday,” Geni replies. Then, softer, she says: “y’know, you should _try_ to eat. The Doctor’s making _so much food…”_

Missy sighs. “You’re right, love. I _should_ try to eat… ca’ ye grab m’ sunglasses?”

Geni stands and walks over to the wide, oak dresser, and she pulls open one of the deep-purple drawers, digs through her mum’s underwear, and finally pulls out a sleek purple case: prescription sunglasses, as it seems her mum is now near-sighted. She pops the case open and hands the glasses over. 

“Thanks, love,” Missy leans forward and presses a kiss to her daughter’s cheek before sliding out of bed. She looks down at herself and considers changing---she’s wearing what _has to be_ one of the Doctor’s shirts, which has weird, circular symbols on it, as well as plaid pajama pants---but ultimately, she decides against it.

In the kitchen, Nardole sits at the small, wooden table with a half-finished plate of bacon and eggs in front of him. He sips at a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice and waves his free hand as Missy and Genevieve enters the room.

“Good morning, Missy,” the Doctor, standing at the stove, turns towards her with a smile. On the counter rests a blue plate stacked high with chocolate chip pancakes, and he gestures towards them, saying, “help yourself! I’m also making _omelets,_ if either of you would like one.”

Missy sits across from Nardole, who smiles at her around a mouthful of eggs. She returns it with a half-smile of her own before saying, “I’ll just have pancakes, thanks.”

Genevieve busies herself with grabbing plates and forks. She places three pancakes on each plate before placing one down in front of her mum and settling in with the other, which she drowns in syrup. 

“This is nice, isn’t it?” The Doctor asks, sitting down between Missy and Nardole. “Our first morning in this new apartment, before you and I start our _new jobs!”_

Genevieve spares him only a brief glance before cutting off a piece of her pancakes, which she chews on angrily (not at their _taste,_ but at the sugary-sweet tone with which the Doctor speaks).

“That reminds me,” Missy takes a sip of water before saying, “I need to review my lesson plans! I’m thinking of having my students create video projects---adaptations of our readings---but I want to make sure they’ll have _time…”_

“I’m _sure_ they will, dear. Personally, I’m dreading having non-physics majors taking my course while having _no_ prior knowledge…”

Missy rolls her eyes. “Scientists! I’m _sure_ all of your students will be **_fine,_ ** Basil. Although,” she smirks, “perhaps we’ll have some of the same students! Ooo, I hope there’ll be **_rumors_ **flying about us! You should make sure to mention you’ve got a wife in the English department, and I’ll mention I’ve got a husband in the sciences, and we’ll see how long it takes them to catch on!”

Despite herself, Geni snorts. “Maybe they’ll think you’re _cheating_ with one another…”

Smiling, Missy playfully elbows her daughter.

Looking on, the Doctor wipes away a loose tear. Thousands of years prior, Koschei and Theta had sat around a much larger table, surrounded by the Deca: one of their last moments of _peace_ before they grew apart, before rage and despair and animosity hardened their hearts. Finally, they are reclaiming that peace.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW for Drowning and Near Death.

Monday comes and Missy drives Genevieve to school for her first day, after packing her lunch and braiding her hair, and they sit in the car, arguing over whether she _has_ to go to school or not.

“Can’t I go to the university with you and the Doctor?” Geni begs. _“Please,_ mum! I have a stomachache.”

Missy turns around and places one hand on her daughter’s cheek. “I _know_ you’re nervous, love, but ye _have_ to go to school! I can _nae_ homeschool you **_and_ **teach at the same time! I’m sorry.”

Geni sighs. “Alright, alright. I’ll see you later, Mum.” she shuffles her backpack onto one shoulder and exits the car.

“Hey,” Missy calls, leaning her head out the window. “Give me a kiss.”

Geni obliges and presses a kiss to her mum’s cheek before finding her own cheeks peppered with kisses. Giggling, she pulls back and cries, _“mum!_ You’re going to make me late!”

Missy releases her hold on her daughter and watches as the girl walks inside for her first ever day at school---prior to all of this, Missy and the Doctor had taken turns homeschooling Geni, teaching her Gallifreyan and math and music and science and history and _anything she_ **_wanted_ ** _to learn,_ no matter how serious or involved. As such, the girl has little experience around people her own age and would feel more comfortable sitting in on her mum’s lectures, but she holds her head high and walks through the doors despite the rapid pounding of her heart.

Once her daughter has disappeared, Missy drives herself to campus for her _own_ very first day.

 _Fortunately_ her first class of the day doesn’t start until 2pm, giving her plenty of time to stop by her office and _personalize_ it. At home her space is _shared_ with her husband and daughter, and while she loves them both **_immensely,_ ** the thought of having a space that’s _entirely her own_ sends a tingle down her spine.

She was lucky enough to get a _window_ in her office, overlooking the heart of campus. Green trees, a marvelous fountain, and the constant movement of students are hers to observe, and a smile flickers onto her lips. Over twenty years ago, she and Basil had studied together on this very campus, and together with eight other students had formed a tight-knit group of radical thinkers and political activists. While they _must_ have kept in contact with one another, she struggles to remember when they had last spoken.

Would they be _proud_ to see her now? 43 years old with a doctorate under her belt, a loving husband, and a brilliant daughter, having spent most of the previous decade as a lecturer at a Scottish university. _So_ many people specialize in **_Shakespeare,_** but she imagines Ushas in particular would enjoy her very immersive style of stage management: once, shortly before Geni was born, she arranged a rendition of Hamlet complete with _actual_ bloodshed and the near-murder of two of the actors. For _months_ after, her staging received both high praise and intense criticism. The public couldn’t quite decide if she was a _genius_ or if she was _mad,_ and the buzz of it all had given her quite the reputation. 

After Genevieve was born, Missy took a step back from direction to focus on raising her daughter. She could remember sitting in the hospital bed, her skin pale and clammy, her dark curls in disarray and her blue eyes blood-shot from exhaustion, holding her little girl, and her heart had swollen with pride as she held Genevieve, who had warm brown skin and dark brown eyes and already a shock of dark brown hair. Basil had _forgiven_ Missy’s indiscretion and accepted the little girl with grace and love.

She turns and leans back against the windowsill, pulls out her flip phone, and scrolls through her saved numbers, searching for _Ushas_ or _Drax_ or _anyone she had gone to school with,_ but her contacts are limited: Basil, Geni, _Nardole,_ and a few of her new colleagues. _Huh,_ she breathes. _I’ll have to ask_ **_Basil_ ** _if he knows…_

She jumps as someone knocks on the door and turns to look. Standing there, smiling, with his gray hair out of place, is Basil.

“Hi. I dropped off your things like you asked, also met one of the other professors in your department---told him he’s _cute,_ but…” he walks forward and wraps one arm around her waist, causing her to blush furiously, and with his other hand, he brushes stray curls away from her face. “I told him I’m married to someone **_far_ **prettier.”

She dips her head for a moment, unable to meet his gaze, and finally manages to say, “I dropped Geni off at school. I _really_ hope she’ll like it there, but she didn’t seem _all_ that thrilled this morning…” she reaches up and musses his hair. “I’m _very_ worried about her.”

Basil cups her face in one hand and says, “I’m _sure_ she’ll adjust well---she’s _smart_ and _kind_ and **_very_ **good at telling puns.”

Missy lifts her gaze to meet his and laughs. “She _is,_ isn’t she? I think that book I gave her has been a _huge_ help in coping with the move.”

They both turn at a knock on the door to see a woman standing there, dressed in blue. “Drs. Braithwaite, I presume?”

Pulling apart, they both nod. “Yes,” Missy starts. “I’m Missy and this is my husband, Basil.”

“I’m Dr. Jennifer Tanner. I specialize in East Asian literature,” she introduces herself and shakes both of their hands. “I heard about your unconventional staging of _Hamlet,_ and I have to ask: are there any recordings?”

Missy’s eyes sparkle as she leans forward to say, _“remind me_ and I’ll lend you a copy---there aren’t very many, unfortunately.”

“I’d _love_ that!” Dr. Tanner reaches into her wallet and gives Missy a business card. “I have my personal phone number written on the back---I _really_ want us to be friends!”

“I think we _will_ be,” Missy smiles.

After a moment, Dr. Tanner turns and leaves and Basil hastens to shut the door behind her. “We’ve both got a couple of hours before classes start, and I was _thinking…”_ his voice trails off

She meets his gaze, smiles, and pulls the curtain shut. “I see you’re feeling _naughty_ this morning,” Missy walks over to him, smirking. “Unfortunately, though, my head hurts _far_ too much for tha’.”

He wraps his arms around her waist again and leans down to kiss her forehead. “That’s alright, Missy. Maybe… maybe we could grab an early lunch at one of the cafes?”

She shakes her head. “Nae… I’m still full from that _lovely_ breakfast you made. Although,” she breaks away from him and settles into her high-backed armchair. “This migraine has **_nae_ ** let up, and I’m…. well.” she forces a smile. “I think I’d like to _rest_ before my first class, if--if that’s alright with you.”

“Of course it is,” he leans down and kisses her cheek, causing her to shudder involuntarily. “Would you like me to leave? I could go mingle with the science department…”

She reaches out and grabs one of his arms, saying, “no, please--- _stay.”_

He smiles. “Of course, Missy. Here,” he sits down beneath the window and motions for her to lay down. She takes off her sunglasses, sets them down atop the pile of papers on her desk, and lays down with her head on his lap, her dark curls falling onto the carpet and getting mussed where they rest on his thighs.

He runs a hand through her hair as she drifts off into an uneasy sleep.

 _When they were_ **_young_ ** _and at boarding school, the other children were often_ **_unkind,_ ** _no more so than_ **_Torvic._ ** _He was_ **_cruel,_ ** _always hitting and shoving and always,_ **_always,_ ** _he would go after Basil and Missy, because they were smaller, because Basil was always an_ **_odd_ ** _child and Missy was constantly_ **_ill._ **

_One day, the three of them had gone to the river, and it had all started out_ **_harmless enough--_ ** _with Basil and Missy scouring for fancy rocks while Torvic_ **_mocked_ ** _them, calling them_ **_babies_ ** _and telling them they were only wasting their time--but things went wrong very,_ **_very_ ** _fast. Torvic rushed towards Missy and threw her down onto the river bank, using the weight of his body to pin her to the earth. Two strong hands forced her head into the water and she struggled against him, gasping for air; water filled her hugs and her vision blackened---she was_ **_too young_ ** _to die!_

 _When she thought it was all over, Torvic’s hold on her slackened and she moved away as he sank into the water, bleeding out. There was_ **_so much blood_ ** _and she lifted her gaze to see Basil standing there, his gaze distant and a bloodied rock held in both hands…_

She wakes up screaming and crying.

Basil holds her tight and soothes, “hey--- **_hey._ ** I’m here and you’re _safe…”_

He holds her as she cries and feels his hearts break a little bit more.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the first day of school, Missy has doubts regarding her teaching ability; she leaves the university early when Geni gets her first period and needs help.

Her first class had been,  _ admittedly,  _ a complete  **_disaster._ ** Her voice shook and her head pulsed and she could hardly stand as nausea overtook her---but thankfully, her students didn’t seem to mind; most of them were  _ also  _ nervous, being first year students.

“Hey,” one of them says after the lecture. “Dr. Braithwaite, I enjoyed your lecture, and I’m  **_really_ ** looking forward to our next session.”

Missy looks up from her stack of notes and offers a nervous smile. “Oh? Thank-you. I… I took a couple of semesters’ leave and it feels  _ strange  _ being back at it, as if I’m just now starting to teach for the first time…” after shaking her head, she says, “Have a good rest of your day.”

“You too!” her student replies, before leaving. 

Once her things are packed away, Missy checks the time on her phone and sighs. Having only half-an-hour until her next lecture leaves her hardly enough time to compose herself.  _ I could sit on one of the benches outside,  _ she thinks, slinging her bag over her shoulder.  **_People-watching_ ** _ might be nice! _

She shuts off the light, locks the door behind her, and pushes her way through a mass of students waiting for their next lecture. One or two of them wave but she ignores them, not feeling up for small talk ( _ especially not  _ after the nightmare she’d had earlier), walks out into a humid heat, and settles on a metal bench beneath a tall, green-leafed tree. She shuts her eyes, bathing in the summer heat, and hums softly to herself, a song without a name, something that fills her with melancholy, for it reminds her of her hazy childhood.

The bench creaks as someone sits down beside her, and she prepares herself to snap them, but before she can get a word out, he says, “don’t worry, it’s only **_me.”_**

With her eyes closed, she can’t see the anger burning in his gaze, but she  _ can  _ hear the irritation in his voice. Against her better judgement she asks, “what did Basil do  _ this  _ time?”

“Made a joke at my expense in front of a lecture of nearly  _ three  _ **_hundred_ ** students!”

Missy chuckles.

“Hey!” Nardole snaps. “It was  **_not_ ** funny!”

_ I’m  _ **_sure_ ** _ it  _ **_was,_ ** she thinks. Not wanting to argue (and feeling her migraine growing worse), Missy drops the subject and says, “y’know, I think I  _ like  _ it here--only problem is, I  **_know_ ** I’ll have many more migraine days… I could barely manage my first lecture,” she admits in a whisper. 

“I’m sure it’ll get easier with time,” Nardole states gently. Then, just as gently, he offers, “y-y’know, I was  _ thinking…  _ maybe I could sit in on your next lecture? Be there to cheer you on…”

Missy opens her eyes and stares at him through her dark glasses.  _ I’d really rather  _ **_nae,_ ** she thinks;  _ but  _ **_Basil_ ** _ would be upset. _

“That’d be fine,” she replies. “Just  _ dinnae _ spend the whole time talking.”

He holds his hand out for her to shake.

“Deal.”

Just minutes before her lecture is set to start, Missy receives a phone call from Geni’s school---the girl has just gotten her first period and is  _ very  _ ill and needs to go home. With a tense smile, Missy asks Nardole to go and he obliges.  _ That’s  _ **_one_ ** _ thing he’s good for,  _ she thinks bitterly as she watches him leave.

Five minutes before the end of class, Basil slips in and takes a seat in the back of the room, beside a  _ very  _ confused third-year student who had sat in his class earlier. At a smile from Basil, Missy flushes.

“Now, I’d like you all to read through the first act for Wednesday, and answer the questions as put forth in the question packet. We’ll hold discussion next session--‘til then!”

Basil stands, walks up to her, and reaches out with one hand to caress her elbow. “Hello, dear,” he says with a smile. “How was your first day?”

_ I  _ **_shouldn’t,_ ** her gaze darts towards the door.  _ What will the students think? _

He follows her gaze and waits until the last of the students have left before leaning in to kiss her cheek.

Missy gathers her things and they leave the room, hand-in-hand.

“Nardole left a couple hours ago to take Geni home--the poor dear got her  _ first period  _ today, and I think it would be best if I went home to take care of her.”

“I agree,” Basil replies. “Go home, take care of her--oh, and have Nardole drive back to pick me up. My last lecture ends at half-past nine.”

She kisses him in the doorway and walks off to the car park, where she tosses her bag onto the passenger seat before driving home.

“Hello!” she announces as she crosses through the threshold. Slipping out of her shoes, she calls, “anybody home?”

She rounds the corner to find Nardole sitting in front of the TV in the sitting room, munching away on a bag of crisps. “Hello,” he says around a mouthful of food. “Genevieve’s been locked in her room ever since we got back.”

She stares distastefully at him and sets her bag down on the sofa before walking over to her daughter’s room and knocking gently on the door. “Geni? It’s your mum--can I come in?”

“Yea,” comes the muffled response.

Missy slowly opens the door and sighs. Genevieve lays with her head beneath her pillow and the curtains tightly shut, and Missy tiptoes over to the bed and kneels down beside it.

“Hello, love. Can I get ye anything?”

Genevieve groans and unburies her face, turns slowly to look at her mum, and lifts one shoulder in a partial shrug. “I---I  _ dunno…  _ m’  _ head  _ and  _ legs  _ and left arm are  **_killing_ ** me and I dinnae think I can go to school tomorrow…” 

“Y’ will  **_nae_ ** have to, love. When  _ I  _ had my first period…” her shoulders slump as she tries to remember---she had been  _ twelve,  _ hadn’t she? Heavy flow, a  **_killer_ ** migraine, and the inability to move without immense pain had defined that wretched week, but the memories feel  **_false,_ ** as if they are not really hers. 

Her memories of the theater production  _ also  _ feel false---but it  _ had  _ happened, shortly before the birth of her baby girl---she  _ knows  _ it had.

“Mum?” Geni asks. “Y’ alright?”

Missy offers a calming smile. “Yes, love. Just got a bit lost in thought there.” She fondly taps the girl’s nose, eliciting a giggle. “But back to my question: can I get ye anything?”

“Ginger ale? I ‘aven’t eaten all day and dinnae know if I  _ can…” _

“We’ll try to get the nausea down first and then see what happens,” Missy states gently. “I’ll be right back.”

She kisses her daughter’s cheek before walking into the kitchen. One bottle of ginger ale-- _ yes.  _ Ginger. Dread settles over her---perhaps it might be best to find an alternative?

“Nonsense,” she tells herself, firmly shaking her head. “Neither of us is  _ allergic  _ to it--” as she walks back towards her daughter’s room, she spies Nardole and suddenly calls, “oh! I nearly forgot--Basil’s last lecture gets out at 9:30, and he wants  _ you  _ to give ‘im a ride home.”

“Got it!” Nardole replies. “9 o’clock: head back to the university.”

“And take your feet  **_off_ ** of my coffee table!” she snaps. “I will  **_nae_ ** have you scuffing the wood with those  _ filthy  _ shoes of yours.”

Nardole drops his feet onto the floor and sinks guiltily down in his seat.

Smirking, Missy returns to her daughter’s room and sits down on the bed. “Oh, my poor baby…” she brushes hair away from Geni’s face with her free hand and the girl groans. “I know, I know… if ye can sit up, I brought some ginger ale.”

Despite the spinning of the world and the sharp pain which radiates off her joints, Geni manages to sit up, and she gratefully accepts the bottle from her mum.

“Slow sips,” Missy warns. “Too much at once will only make you feel more sick.”

After taking a small sip, Geni sets the bottle on her night stand. _One day,_ she will be old enough to open her _own_ ornate watch: her key to a longer, adventure-filled life, and one of the things she will **_not_** miss is her period. She lays down on her side and motions for Missy to do the same.

Though she knows the memories are false, she wants desperately to connect more with her mum and so she asks, “how old were  _ you  _ when you had your first period?”

“Twelve,” she replies automatically. “My mum was gone and my father did  **_nae_ ** know how to help--he called each of his sisters until one of them  _ finally  _ picked up, and she was kind enough to come over and help.”

“Sounds nice,” Geni shuts her eyes and manages to smile. “Do y’  _ also  _ get bad migraines with them?”

“Yes, love. Do ye need medicine for the pain?”

Geni shakes her head and winces. “No, I already took some. C--can y’ just lay here with me? No talking, just---I want this to  _ stop,”  _ she buries her face in her pillow, hiding her tears.

Missy reaches out, wraps an arm around her daughter, and presses a kiss to the top of her head. “I know,” she soothes, and she falls quiet as Genevieve drifts off into an uncomfortable sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Missy's facade starts to break after a student refuses to take 'no' for an answer and Basil helps her dispose of the body.

They survive the first  _ week,  _ then the first  _ month,  _ and it isn’t until halfway through the second month when Missy’s facade begins to  _ crack. _

With the stress of midterms weighing down on them, her students start attending her office hours more, most nervously asking for help while one or two students break down  _ crying _ in front of her. The only calm one is a young, white man of 19, a son of one of the members of the board of trustees, who smiles wickedly and leans in just a  _ bit  _ too close for her comfort.

“I’m  _ sorry,  _ Mr. Smith,” Missy starts gently, “but I can _ nae  _ change your grades simply because you ask me to---”

He had moved the chair next to her desk despite her protests---they needn’t be _that_ close---and he now reaches out and places a hand on her thigh. She follows his gaze, throws his hand off her, and snaps, **“** ** _nae._** I’m _married_ and you’re a **_child,_** Mr. Smith.”

“Call me  _ Tony,  _ please. And if you  _ don’t  _ change my grades, I’ll report you to the administration----”

“For  **_what,_ ** exactly? Because, from where  _ a’m  _ sitting,  _ you’re  _ the one facing harassment charges.”

He dips his head, smiles, and says, “I’m  _ sure  _ if you just  _ gave me a chance,  _ you’d change your mind---I’ve  _ seen  _ how you look at me.”

Missy rolls her chair backwards, away from him, but he stands up and moves closer, closer, closer, until there is hardly any space between them, and in her panic she reaches blindly into her purse, looking for-----

She finds it in an instant and drives the knife into his heart. His eyes grow wide and he takes in a horrible, shuddering breath, the smug arrogance fading from his countenance. Acting off of adrenaline, Missy drives the knife back out and shoves him to the ground, where she kneels beside him and stabs him again and again, even as he scratches at her. 

One of his hands reaches up, snatches her glasses off her face, and crunches them. With the harshness from her desk lamp and the shine of the moon proving too much, Missy shuts her eyes and switches to blindly stabbing him, cutting up his face and chest and arms and feeling him grow weaker and weaker beneath her.

Opening her eyes, she falls backwards onto the floor and stares at her former student.  _ Humans have  _ **_so much blood,_ ** she thinks. Her thoughts are distant, floating, and she reaches out, dips a finger into one of the open wounds, and licks her hand clean of the blood. 

It sparkles on her tongue.

She watches as he convulses and places a hand on his chest, letting his blood wash over her, with its sweet, coppery smell and its warmth, and something in the back of her mind screams that she’s done this before, that this is  **_natural_ ** for her, and she laughs, but it doesn’t feel like it’s  _ her  _ who’s laughing.

Softly, she starts to sing,  _ “hey, Missy, you’re so fine…” _

What is ‘Missy’ short for, anyway? On all of her paperwork, her bills, her government-issued ID, it only says ‘Missy,’ and part of her feels tempted to  _ elongate  _ it, only  _ nothing  _ comes to mind. 

She lifts her gaze at a knock on the door.

“Basil?” she calls, standing up. “Is tha’ you?”

“Yes, Missy,” he replies. “Can I come in, or are you still with a student?”

“Yes and yes!” she sing-songs, and she walks over to open the door. 

Where she stands, he cannot immediately see the body, but the scent of blood hits him immediately and his eyes widen as he glances down at her hand. 

"Missy…" he whispers, taking hold of her wrist. "What have you done?"

"There was a bit of a  _ problem," _ she starts, "but 's'alrigh'! A took care of it."

He looks over her shoulder and sees Mr. Smith, stabbed myriad times and bathed in a pool of his own blood, and he steps into her office before shutting and locking the door.

"This…. this is  **_bad,"_ ** he mutters, by now pacing the room. "Maybe….. maybe I was  _ wrong…" _

He turns as Missy starts to hum and sees her dancing around the room with her eyes shut.

"Missy."

She hums louder, lost in a reverie, high off the scent of blood and the adrenaline from the murder, and she stops only when she stumbles into the corpse. 

"Missy," the Doctor tries again, this time using a gentle tone, the sort a parent uses when chiding their child. "I need you to stop and look at me."

She follows his voice but keeps her eyes firmly shut. "Can't, dear. He broke my glasses and the lights are simply _too_ _bright…"_

He blinks, spares a quick glance towards the window, at the bright shine of the moon, and he hastens to close the curtains. Professors often work late, don't they? And  _ especially so _ during exam season, as students grapple to survive and realize their professors are there to  _ help. _

"Basil?" her voice cuts into his thoughts. "This may sound  _ strange,  _ but I can _ nae  _ remember my full name….. I mean, I cannae simply be  _ Missy,  _ ca' I?

"It's  _ Artemis,  _ but you started shortening it when we are at uni, because you'd grown to hate it and it reminded you too much of Torvic."

She frowns. "Huh. Funny, tha’...” 

He reaches into his coat, pulls out a pair of dark sunglasses, and gently places them on her face before saying, “open your eyes  _ now.” _

She blinks. “Where’d you get these?”

“They’re your spare pair,” he returns the case to his inner jacket pocket. “Thought it would be best to hold onto them myself, in case anything should happen.”

“Smart thought, tha’.” she lifts her bloodied hand and licks at it. “Y’know, I think I  _ like  _ how blood tastes…”

Basil frowns. “No, Missy; no reasonable person likes the taste of blood.”

“But  **_I_ ** do, Basil! It’s… sweet. Coppery. And I  _ think  _ it’d taste lovely over vanilla ice cream… oh!” She raises her eyebrows at him, smiling sweetly. 

“No. Missy,” he reaches into his jacket again and this time pulls out a dark blue handkerchief, which he hastily wraps around her bloodied palm. “Go to the bathroom down the hall, wash your hands, and wrap this handkerchief up in paper towel before disposing of it.” 

She turns her gaze to the body and frowns. “But there’s  _ so much blood,  _ Basil! Like… like when Torvic…”  _ she had sat, stunned, in the water for several terribly long moments, watching as blood pooled around her, and it had taken Basil’s firm grip to pull her out and back into reality. _

“We made a pact back then, didn’t we? You and I, united against the world…” he steps back and sighs. “Go, and get cleaned up, and knock when you return. Make sure  _ no one _ sees you.”

The glazed, distant look in her eye does nothing to assuage his panic, and he watches her leave with his hearts in his throat.  _ Two-and-a-half months…  _ Sometimes, he fears her old, wild, chaos loving self is breaking through in the way she looks at Nardole, or the way she complains about a student or another member of the faculty, but until now, he had dismissed those fears.  _ You’ve got to  _ **_trust_ ** _ her, Doctor,  _ he tells himself,  _ even  _ **_if_ ** _ it seems ‘too good to be true.’  _

He kneels down beside the body and fishes through his pockets until he finds his wallet.  _ Anthony Smith, age 19,  _ was a wealthy student with connections at the university, and his untimely demise will doubtlessly attract unwanted attention--- _ unless… if I use the TARDIS, pull a trick like Torchwood would, subtly manipulate the timeline…  _

_ Say he went on a trip,  _ he muses,  _ and he made the wrong person angry---one of his father’s associates, perhaps? Some entitled rich man with no qualms about using a child as a bargaining chip, who figured he could get a pretty penny… _

He startles at a knock on the door and tiptoes over, leans forward, and asks, “hello?”

“Basil, dear? It’s me.”

He quickly opens the door and reshuts it after Missy walks in. 

“See?” she holds up her bloodied hand. “I got it  _ all  _ off---well,  **_most_ ** of it. Some got stuck under my nails…”

“That’s fine, Missy. I… I need you to trust me.”

She walks over to him, twines the fingers of one hand through his, and smiles up at him with that same glazed look in her eyes. “I  _ do,  _ love! I always have, ever since we were children and you took care of me when I was sick.”

He smiles nervously before saying, “good! That’s--that’s  _ really good,  _ Missy.” he runs his free hand through his curls before saying, “I---I can make this all go away----no one will ever know what you’ve done, and they’ll find Anthony in a few days, the blood still fresh…”

“Tha’ doesn’t make any sense, love, unless you mean to stick him in the freezer?”

He chuckles. “No, no. Here’s what I’m going to do: call Nardole and have him take you home, where you can have something strong to drink and hopefully  _ forget  _ all of this, and while you’re gone I’ll get this whole mess cleaned up, and it’ll be as if nothing happened.”

She frowns. “You’re going to take care of this all on your own?”

“Yes.”

Still frowning, she sits down on her desk chair with her hands beneath her and kicks her legs, humming softly to herself.

Basil pulls out his phone and hastily dials Nardole, who doesn’t answer for several long moments, and when he does, it’s with a sleep-laden voice. “Hello? Sir?”

“I need you to come here, quick as you can, Nardole. Take the  _ box,  _ if you can---I’ll explain everything later,” he ends the call before Nardole can protest and turns towards Missy with a gentle smile that fades when he sees her kneeling over the body, dipping her fingers into the open wounds.

“No, Missy---remember? Blood is  _ not  _ for playing with.”

She pouts. “But it feels  _ nice,  _ Basil! And it tastes  _ so good…” _

A few minutes later, Nardole knocks on the office door and Basil hastens to open it, saying, “it looks worse than it is, so don’t worry.”

Nardole’s eyes widen and he opens his mouth, but all that comes out is a horrible, strangled noise, and he shuts it again before nodding.

Missy stands up and waltzes over to them, holds out a bloodied hand, and says, “ye should try some! It’s  _ so  _ much better than cherries…”

“Missy!” Basil takes hold of her wrist again. “No. Nardole will  _ not  _ be trying bl--”

“I’ve had some be---” Nardole flushes under a glare from Basil. “Right. Not important! Can I have your car keys?”

Missy turns towards her desk, fishes through her purse, and finally tosses her keys to Nardole. “There y’ go.”

Basil and Nardole exchange a glance before he ushers her out of the room, down the hall, downstairs, and out through the locked front doors. She hums the whole way and Nardole bites his tongue to stop himself from yelling at her.

“Right,” Basil tells himself. “Here goes nothing.”

He draws a key from within his jacket, shuts his eyes, and holds his breath, not sure what he’ll do if it doesn’t work, and he smiles as he hears the tell-tale sound of the engines as the TARDIS materializes around him and the corpse. Opening his eyes, he laughs. “Good girl!”

She lets out a displeased hum and the Doctor frowns. 

“Well---well---I know it **_looks_** bad, but it was done in self-defense, and it’s better that **_I_** found her than another professor because then we might have _two or more_ bodies on our hands, and _that_ would be a real pickle, wouldn’t it?”

The TARDIS hums again and the Doctor waves a dismissive hand. 

“A  _ week  _ into the future should do the trick,” he muses, setting the coordinates. “And I’ll go through his phone, edit his  _ Myspace  _ and  _ Facebook  _ profiles to say he’s gone on a trip, maybe fabricate a hostage scenario…. and it’ll  _ never  _ get back to Missy. And, maybe---maybe I’ll wipe it from her memory…”

They land and he drags the corpse out, leaves him beneath a tree somewhere in Wales, and hastens back to the TARDIS, where he flips the fast-return switch before running off into the interior. He considers using bleach to remove the blood, but the stench would remain the next day and it would only give Missy a horrible migraine; he next considers using nanotechnology to clean the carpet, but that, too, would post too big of a risk as some of the robots might find their way into the other offices and eat away at the furniture; finally, he settles on moving all of the furniture into the TARDIS before starting to manually rip out the carpet.

“I think she’ll  _ like  _ purple,” he muses, holding up two swatches of carpet. “But which shade… light?” he turns towards the TARDIS, who now obscures the hallway, and she lets out a displeased hum. “Dark?” at this, the TARDIS’ windows light up, and he smiles. “Yes, I think so, too. She’ll be in for a nice surprise tomorrow.”

A few hours later, after laying the carpet and moving her office furniture back in, the Doctor takes the TARDIS back home, landing in their backyard and cloaking her, arriving within fifteen minutes of Nardole and Missy, and he runs inside to find Genevieve working on her homework at the kitchen table.

“Hello,” he smiles. “Have you seen your mum?”

“She’s taking a bath,” Geni replies. “I’m worried, though---she seemed upset and took a bottle of wine in there with her…. did something happen?”

“No, I think she just had a hard day.” He glances at the oven’s clock. “You should go to bed soon, though. It’s a school night.”

Geni rolls her eyes behind his back.

He walks over to the bathroom, knocks gingerly on the door, and opens it to find Missy in the bathtub, covered in bubbles and taking a long swig from a bottle of wine. She startles when he walks in, drops the bottle, and starts crying.

“Hey,” he shuts the door behind him and rights the bottle before the wine spills out. “It’s alright, Missy. I’m here.”

“I can still feel his blood on my hands,” she sobs. “I can still smell it...what am I going to do?! They’re going to find me…”

Settling down next to the bathtub, he cups her face with one hand and says, “No, Missy, they’re  _ not.  _ They’ll find him in a week or so, having gone off on a two-week vacation, and none of this will ever come back to you.”

She stares at him doubtfully. “How can ye  _ know _ tha’?”

He smiles sadly. “Because I  _ can,  _ Missy, just like how I can take the memory away from you, more so than alcohol can.”

“Oh? Tha’ sounds nice…”

Basil leans forward, tenderly kisses her lips, then rests his forehead against hers with his eyes closed. “I’m doing this because I  _ care  _ about you, Missy… you’re my  _ best friend…” _

She shuts her eyes and the corners of her lips twitch as he nudges his way into her mind, blocking out the memory of the murder and replacing the past few hours with nothing but a haze, and once he’s done, she collapses against the side of the tub.

“I love you, Basil,” she whispers. “Thank ye f--for---”

“Hush now, Missy. Enjoy the warmth of the water and the tickle of the bubbles and the sleepy feeling from the wine, and I’ll sit here with you, if you’d like.”

“Yes. Yes yes yes yes  _ yes…” _

She leans back in the water and holds a hand out, which he takes with a small smile.

“Hey,” he says after a few moments.

“Yea?” she questions, turning her face towards him with her eyes still shut.

“I love you too.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geni and the Doctor go on an adventure to a futuristic market before school and Geni has her first kiss.

"Sir," Nardole intones, stopping in the hallway between their flats, "we **_need_ ** to talk about what happened last Thursday--"

Pacing, the Doctor replies, _"no,_ Nardole; we **_don't._ ** It was purely _self-defence,_ and besides, they found him _this morning,_ more than a we---" 

"Hello?" a voice cuts in. "What are you going on about?"

The Doctor and Nardole both turn to see Geni standing in the open doorway and they smile, broad, awkward smiles, and she crosses her arms, glaring at them.

"Mum's too sick to work today," she explains. "And it's almost time for school to start…"

"I'll drive you," the Doctor says. "Have you had breakfast yet?"

"No, but I'm n--"

The Doctor holds up an index finger, saying, "I'll cook you breakfast _and_ make sure you get to school on time!"

"---wait! You mean----"

He grins. "Yes, Geni. A trip in the TARDIS."

She stares at him with wide, hopeful eyes and asks, "Can I fly her?!??"

Oh, he wants **_so_** badly to go on a trip in the TARDIS---it has been _three months_ at this point! Three months of _linear time,_ living through every hour, every minute, every _millisecond,_ and while he _adores_ this chance at domesticity, part of him aches to go out among the stars again.

Maybe he could treat Missy to a trip in the TARDIS?

He smiles down at Geni, pats her shoulder, and says, "maybe when you're older."

She groans. “You and mum _always_ say tha’! _I_ think I’m _plenty_ old eno---”

“What would you like to eat?” the Doctor cuts in. “ _Pancakes_ or _eggs_ or _waffles_ or _cinnamon rolls…”_

“Pancakes? Blueberry ones.”

“Got it.”

Genevieve turns on her heel and walks back into their flat, followed by Nardole and the Doctor, who shuts and locks the door behind him. While the others sit, the Doctor holds up a hand, indicating that they should _wait_ and he won’t be long, and he slips into his and Missy’s shared bedroom, where she lays buried under pillows and blankets.

“Missy?” he whispers. “Can I get you anything?”

“New brain?” she jokes. “I cannae move…”

He sits down beside her and sighs. “Can’t do _that,_ unfortunately. I’ve got to make Geni breakfast and get her to school…. would you like Nardole to stay with you today?”

 _I’d rather_ **_you_ ** _did,_ she thinks, only he _has_ to go to the university, not only to teach but to attend hours of staff meetings, and she lets out a sigh of her own before saying, “I think I can manage, dear.”

“Are you _sure?_ I don’t like leaving you alone like this.”

“I’ve been handling these on my own for nearly _forty years_ now, Basil. I’ll manage.”

“Alright, Missy.” She moves one of the pillows just enough to uncover one side of her face and the Doctor leans down to press a tender kiss to her cheek. “Take care and phone if you need anything.”

“Will do,” she replies, her voice muffled as she reburies her face.

He walks back into the kitchen and starts pulling ingredients from the refrigerator and the cupboards, including a box of pancake mix and a package of blueberries, and Genevieve moves to help him.

By the time they’ve finished, there are only _fifteen minutes_ until the girl is meant to be at school, but the Doctor tells her to take her time; they have the TARDIS, after all, and he can drop her off _twenty minutes_ **_early,_ **if she’d like. 

“It’s m’ friend’s birthday,” Geni says with a small, nervous smile. “She’s a year older---she’s _twelve---_ and I made a painting for her.”

“Oh? That’s very nice,” the Doctor responds with a smile of his own. “This friend…. what’s her name?”

“Alyssa,” Geni replies, and a flush creeps onto her cheeks. “We’re in the same maths and history classes, and she _loves_ giraffes.”

The Doctor chuckles. “Giraffes? I used to have a dance called ‘the Drunk Giraffe’---I could show it to you later, if you’d like.”

She cuts into her pancakes and giggles. “Yeah. I think I’d like that.”

After breakfast, Nardole heads to the University to clock in for his shift at the cafe while the Doctor and Geni hop into the TARDIS, him with a briefcase and her with her backpack over her shoulder and a wrapped canvas in both hands. Nardole warns them not to dawdle---the girl is meant to be in school in _five minutes_ and the Doctor’s first meeting starts at half-past nine---and with fingers crossed behind their backs, they both promise not to.

“So,” the Doctor starts, absently flicking switches on the central console. “What would you say to a _flying lesson?”_

Geni’s eyes widen as she turns slowly to him. “Really?!”

He turns towards her with a smile. _“Yes,_ really. Figured it’s about time.”

She sets her things down on the pilot’s chair and quirks a brow. “But _you_ said I’m _too young!”_

He laughs. “That I did, but only to get Nardole off our backs. He’d _never_ agree to this, you know, even though both myself and your mum stole a TARDIS when we were only _nine…”_

“You _didn’t!”_ she exclaims, fondly swatting at his arm. “Wha’ about the teachers at the academy?”

“They never found out---well, I _think_ they knew, but they never _did_ anything about it. Here,” he indicates a set of dials, “use _these_ to set the coordinates--”

“I’m not really sure how to do that,” she admits. 

“Ah. Well, come over _here,”_ he shifts to a different set of dials, “turn _these_ and _think,_ and the TARDIS will figure out where to go. Just… I’m not in the mood for the moon, alright? We can go there some other time.”

“Hm.” She stares at him for a long moment before fiddling with the dials. “I’d _love_ to see an alien marketplace! Oh! Maybe I’ll pick up something for mum!”

He smiles, but it doesn’t meet his eyes. Traveling with Missy and Geni through the stars, showing the girl the wonders of the universe, standing hand-in-hand as she grows up as a child of the stars… _one day,_ he thinks. _If Missy decides to restore herself, if Geni does the same…_

_One day…_

“I hit this one and it goes?” Geni asks, tearing him from his thoughts. Her hand hovers over one of the levers and she looks at him expectantly.

“Yes, Geni. Though, if you’d rather have the breaks off---”

“Can we? I’ve got a headache.”

“Is it a migraine, or not that bad yet?”

She frowns. “Not _quite_ yet. Nothing near what mum’s got. But getting thrown about will only make things worse.”

The Doctor walks around the console, flips the breaks off and turns on the stabilizers, and then gestures towards Geni, who flips the lever and sends them whirling through the vortex, into the 52nd Century. Alpha Centauri. A high-domed, sprawling shopping center with an artificial sky and the occasional potted tree scattered about, with Sontarans, Silurians, Humans, and a vast variety of other species mingling together, talking and laughing.

They step out of the TARDIS and Geni stares, wide-eyed, up at the ceiling.

“Woah.”

Smiling, the Doctor holds out a hand, which she takes with a smile of her own. “I haven’t been to _this_ one in a while---last time was with _Martha,_ I think. She bought a souvenir for every member of her family, and then we stopped for ice cream…”

They start walking but she stops him and asks, “have y’ got money?”

He pulls a small, black cube from within his jacket, and says, “yes. The future is _completely_ cashless--- **_everything_ **runs off credit; humanity took a long time to switch over, but they got there, in the end.”

She nods before her attention is torn elsewhere--- _clouds_ hang in the artificial sky, and they’re _glowing pink,_ pulsing and shining and she thinks if she stood on the Doctor’s shoulders, she’d be able to _touch_ them! _That’s what we’ll do next,_ she thinks. _After school, I’ll ask if we could just_ **_sit_ ** _in the sky… I’ve always wondered what a cloud feels like!_

“There’s a jewelry store over _there,_ I think,” the Doctor cuts into her thoughts. “But we need to be _careful_ not to take anything **_abnormal_ **back home, or it could mess up the timelines.”

She turns towards him with a quirked brow and asks, “a _necklace_ could ruin the timelines? That doesn’t make much sense.”

“There are _laws_ to Time, Genevieve. Something you bring back could fall into the wrong hands---say, a scientist, and they could try to perform a chemical analysis on it only to find that the combination of metals isn’t contemporary to Earth, and _then_ they might start trying to locate its origins out in the universe, somewhere, only the average scientist _doesn’t_ have access to the necessary technology, and they might turn to _UNIT_ or _Tor---_ ah.”

Frowning, she breaks away from him and walks into the store, where the shopkeeper greets her in a loud, booming voice, and she looks through the display cases, wondering at the combination of gold and gems. Purple… _purple…_ She finds a heart-shaped amethyst pendant hanging from a silver chain and waves the Doctor over to look at it.

“Ooo. I’ll think she’ll _love_ that,” the Doctor says with a smile. “Hello,” he tells the shopkeeper. Pointing, he asks, “could we have that?”

“Of course,” she replies, opening the case. “Is it for your daughter?”

“No, uh---”

“It’s for m’ mum!” Geni announces with a grin. “I wanted to get her something special, just because.”

“Well,” the shopkeeper replies, placing the necklace in an ornate little box, “I’m _sure_ she’ll love it! Here you are!”

“Thanks!” Geni takes the box and holds it up to show the Doctor, who returns her smile with one of his own. 

“Would you like anything for yourself?” he asks.

“Hm… maybe. How long have we been out?”

He pulls a set of dark, plastic sunglasses from within his coat, puts them on, and taps the top of one of the lenses, setting off a low, electric buzz. “Uh… only seven minutes, apparently! You can look around more, if you’d like; there’s no hurry to get to school, is there?”

She bites her lip, thinking, _I_ **_need_ ** _to see her, sooner rather than later… but here we are, in the_ **_52nd Century…_ ** _maybe I could get Alyssa something? She_ **_loves_ ** _opal, and maybe…_

“S’pose not,” she finally says. “I think I’d like a bracelet, for myself, and a necklace, for my friend.”

He quirks a brow. “Would that be the same friend you made that painting for?” he asks gently, teasingly.

Feeling her face grown warm, Geni turns and walks over to another one of the displays, this one filled with bracelets in gold and silver and decorated with intricate filigree. She chooses a silver one for herself before also choosing a necklace for Alyssa, a gold chain with a sparkling opal hanging from it, and the Doctor pays for the items with his magic cube before ushering her back to the TARDIS.

“Thanks, dad,” Geni presses a kiss to his cheek before putting the small brown jewelry shop bag into her backpack. “Mum’s going to **_love_ **her necklace!”

Standing at the console, the Doctor blinks. “You’ve never called me ‘dad’ before.”

She tilts her head to one side. “Well, you _are_ married to m’ mum, and ‘step-dad’ sounds like too much to say, and just calling you ‘Doctor’ is a bit _impersonal,_ isn’t it?”

He shrugs. “S’pose so. I’m dropping you off fifteen minutes early, if that’s alright.”

She shrugs as well, saying, “that works. I’m in no hurry, really.”

“Neither am I,” he admits. He flips the switch and sends them again whirling through the vortex. Once they land, he says, “try and have a good day at school, and I hope that headache of yours clears.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you later,” she grabs her things, waves, and walks out onto her school’s campus.

 _Huh,_ he thinks, and he leans against the console. _I hadn’t really thought of it, other than on paper---but she_ **_is_ ** _my daughter isn’t she? And she’s going to grow up_ **_without_ ** _the influence of the Time Lords looming over her, without the pressures of the Academy and untouched by the horrors of the Schism…_

He wipes away a tear and sets off for St. Luke’s.

Geni moves from class to class without focus, her mind occupied entirely by the excitement of giving Alyssa her birthday presents before they part, and one of her instructors stops her after class to ask if anything's bothering her.

"No, miss. I didn't sleep well so I'm a bit distracted, is all."

"Alright," her teacher replies. "Get some rest tonight and I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye," Geni waves before leaving for her next class.

Her last class of the day is Maths, which she doesn't really care for (the Doctor has been teaching her _much_ more advanced concepts), and afterwards she hastens to grab the presents from her locker, fighting through a crowd of students to do so. Despite the shaking of her hands and the pounding of her heart, she meets Alyssa outside the school with a smile.

"Happy birthday!" Geni exclaims. "I got you something."

Alyssa takes the gifts with a grin. "Thanks! Now, do you know yet if you're able to sleepover tomorrow night?"

"Should be," Geni replies. "My mum's sick, so I wasn't able to ask her this morning."

"I hope she feels better soon."

“Me, too.”

Silence settles over them, silence that pulses in Genevieve's ears, telling her she needs to act _now,_ when everyone else is distracted waiting for their parents or talking to their friends, or the moment will be gone. _Now, now,_ **_now!_ ** _Have you ever_ **_seen_ ** _someone so beautiful?_

Genevieve looks around them, making sure no one is watching--it is always best to go unnoticed, undisturbed, a fact she had learned during her months on the streets of Victorian London.

"Geni?" Alyssa squints at her friend. "Everythin---"

 _Now, now,_ **_now!_ **

She moves forward and kisses Alyssa on the lips. Pulling back, she smiles as a slow, pleased smile forms on the other's face. 

"That was nice," Alyssa says. 

"Yea," Geni breathes, unable to think clearly as her heart resounds in her ears. "It w-"

Alyssa cuts her off with a kiss.

They break apart, both giggling.

“Tha--that was nice. Um.” Geni looks behind Alyssa to see Nardole poking his head out the car window. He waves and she sighs. “Sorry---my dad’s friend is here, I have to go…”

“I’ll call you tonight, after I’ve opened these,” she holds up her presents. “I’ll see you later!”

Genevieve walks over to Nardole and gets into the car, where she stares at the floor’s rough carpet to avoid meeting his gaze in the rearview mirror. 

“Anything you’d like to talk about?” he asks, turning the car into drive. 

“Not really,” she replies. 

Back at home, she hastens to drop her things in her bedroom before taking the small box out of her bag and walking over to her mum’s door. “Mum?”

“Hmm?” comes the muffled response. “Ye can come in, love.”

Geni slowly opens the door and walks into the dark room. She opens the curtains a crack and Missy unburies her face and smiles as her daughter settles on the bed beside her. 

“My baby,” she says, holding a hand out. “How was your day?”

“Very good, actually,” Geni replies with a smile. “Um, dad and I went to the jewelry store the other day, and I got you _this,”_ she places the box in her mum’s open palm. “Do y’ like it?”

Missy opens the box and gasps. She runs a finger over the smooth gem and turns it this way and that, admiring the way it catches the light, only, hadn’t she heard her little girl say ‘dad’?

“You called Basil your ‘dad’---you’ve _never_ done _that_ before!”

Geni shrugs. “He is though, isn’t it? Calling him ‘Basil’ just feels a bit _impersonal.”_

“Fair enough,” Missy pinches Geni’s cheek. “There’s something _else_ on your mind, though, love. You’re _flushing.”_

She bites her lip before admitting, “I, uh… I had my first kiss today.”

Missy sits upright, her blue eyes wide, and she fondly taps Geni’s nose before saying, “tell me more!”

“It was, uh…. after school. You remember Alyssa? It’s her birthday today, and I made her a painting and gave her a bracelet, and then, um…”

“You really like her, yea? She’s a good kid. Smart.”

“She’s having a sleepover with a few other girls tomorrow… can I go?”

Smiling, Missy nods. “Yes, love.” As Geni frowns, Missy narrows her eyes and asks, “what’s on your mind, love?”

“You and dad… when did you have _your_ first kiss?”

“Huh.” Missy shifts to rest against the wooden bedframe. “We were, what? _Nine,_ I think. We had gotten our hands on a bottle of _ginger beer_ \---- _no_ alcohol, but _very_ fizzy----and we played a game of ‘spin the bottle,’ and it landed on _me_ when it was Basil’s turn. It was _awkward,_ to say the least. Neither of us wanted to act first, we both just sat in the middle of that circle, our friends all watching, and _Basil_ finally made the first move. He kissed me and I didn’t know how to respond. We were both flushing furiously and we moved to opposite ends of the room, and I couldn’t look him in the eye for a while after that.”

“Sounds cute,” Geni says with a soft smile. “Y’know, for a while I wasn’t too happy having him around, but I _think_ I’m finally warming up to him.”

“That’s good to hear, love, because he’s not going anywhere anytime soon.”

She holds out an arm and Geni shifts to sit beside her. 

“So,” Missy starts, drumming her fingers against her daughter’s shoulder. “You like girls, then?”

Geni nods.

“Boys?”

Hesitantly, Geni shakes her head. “No. No, I---I don’t.” She lets out a sob, turns her head, and buries her face in her mum’s shoulder. 

“Hey, _hey,_ love. Tha’s alright. Ye know, both Basil and I like boys _and_ girls. Nothing wrong about it.”

She runs a hand through her daughter’s hair and presses a kiss to the top of her head, comforting and assuring her that no matter _what,_ she’ll always love and support her little girl. “I know, I _know_ how terrifying it can be, when you first tell someone, but I love and accept you for who you are. You’re alright.”

“Thanks, mum,” Geni finally says, wiping her eyes. “I…. I don’t think I want everyone to know. Not yet. There are some older kids who are more open, and the other kids are so _mean…”_

“Din _nae_ listen to them, love, and if ye can, report them to the school admin. Kids like that are _cruel_ and I cannae stand them.”

Nodding, Geni says, “yes. Yes… do you like your necklace?”

“I _love_ it. Think I’ll wear it _everyday,_ in fact.” She takes the necklace out of its box and clasps it around her neck. 

They sit in a comfortable silence until the Doctor comes home, apologizing for the intrusion, but he _needs_ to tell Missy that the girlfriend of Anthony Smith, the student they just found _dead_ in Wales, is hosting a vigil for him that very same night, and while neither of them were very _fond_ of him (he would harass Missy in an attempt to get better grades and talked loudly throughout Basil’s lectures), it would do well if they made an appearance.

For Missy, she would much rather stay at home and help Geni with her homework, because paying respects to a pompous, self-entitled kid does _not_ sound like her idea of a good night. Basil, however, fearing that _not_ going would cast suspicion on them (even though he _had_ gotten rid of all the evidence, including replacing Missy’s collapsible knife with a new, clean, unused one), _insists_ they attend, if only to make their faces seen.

They stand among the crowd with somber miens.

No one notices the Doctor’s clenched fists and hardened jaw, nor the distaste in Missy’s eyes, and they leave the event after hearing the kid’s girlfriend speak.

Back in the car, Missy starts shaking and crying, and the Doctor pulls her into a hug, saying, “it’s alright, Missy. He can’t hurt you anymore.”  
 ** _They_** _can’t hurt you anymore._


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genevieve attends Alyssa's sleepover despite her anxiety.

Missy stands in her daughter’s room, holding a clipboard and pen as her daughter packs her backpack, and she asks, “medicine?”

“Yes, mum,” Genevieve replies. She slips the bottle into her bag before squeezing in Mr. Sky, who she’ll sit up with and talk to while the other girls are asleep. Inside her prescription bottle, she had slipped caffeine pills: the Doctor had mentioned them to Nardole once, and out of curiosity she’d gone looking for them, found them, tried one, and went without sleeping for nearly  _ two days _ before she crashed in her Maths class.

“Change of clothes?”

“Check.”

With each question, Missy marks off her list and her frown deepens. Nearly eight years ago now she had lost her daughter and since getting her back, Missy has dedicated as much of her time and attention to the girl as possible, even when she cannot move due to a migraine. Seeing her have  _ friends  _ and  _ crushes  _ are good signs though, aren’t they? That the girl is adjusting. Growing.  _ Healing.  _

And yet Missy often wakes in the middle of the night to screaming and crying coming from her daughter’s room. She lets Basil know, either by touching his shoulder or kissing his cheek, that she’s leaving, and then she goes into Geni’s room, scoops the girl into her arms, and holds her, letting her cry until she grows tired of it and can only lean, exhausted, into her mum. 

“You said your period hadn’t started yet, do you have---”

Genevieve pulls a small bag from within her backpack which she holds up, saying, “ _ yes,  _ mum. I’ve everything I need.”

“Good. We should head out, then, and maybe we could stop for ice cream on the way? Unless you’re planning on eating  _ nothing but sugar  _ while there…”

Geni swings her bag over her shoulder with a smile. “No, that sounds nice, mum. I’m…” she bites her lip before admitting, “I’m  _ scared.  _ What if… what if they don’t like me, after all? I only know Alyssa and Jane, her cousin, and what if the others think I’m  _ weird  _ and don’t like me?”

Smiling, Missy shakes her head and says, “nonsense! I’m _sure_ they’ll like you, love. You’re _kind_ and _smart_ and _funny,_ and I think this will be **_very_** good for y’, love.” Biting her lip, she blinks back tears, shakes her head, and holds out a hand, saying, “c’mon. Ice cream, then sleepover.”

They stop at a small ice cream parlor and Missy buys Geni a large cup of vanilla-chocolate swirl with rainbow sprinkles, telling her to eat as much as she can and to be careful  _ not  _ to stain the car seat, or  _ Nardole  _ will have their heads ( _ why  _ he is so invested in their cars instead of buying his own she has  _ no  _ idea, but part of her cannot help but feel bad for him, with his constant scowl and empty apartment).

A  _ rumor  _ floats around among some of the physics students, saying that Basil (who, for a reason she cannot quite grasp, goes by ‘the Doctor’) is having an affair with Nardole, though most of them are, by design, unaware that Basil and Missy are an item. Moving in their separate realms, only meeting in the brief minutes between classes, and working their hardest to keep their relationship a secret despite being married over twenty years, the Braithwaites are striving to avoid the  _ disaster  _ that happened at their previous university, when they had  _ thought  _ the door to his office was closed and one of their colleagues walked in on them.

Smiling, Geni holds the cup out to her mum. “Y’ should have some, too! I don’t think I can eat all this myself.”

Taking up a spare spoon, Missy returns Geni’s smile with one of her own. “Don’t think I’d be able to either. Too much sugar makes it hurt up here,” she taps two fingers against the side of her head.

They finish the ice cream and Missy turns the car into drive, keeping her smile even as Geni kisses her cheek and gets out of the car. She hesitates and turns towards her mum, wanting to climb back into the car and ask her to call Alyssa’s family, say she got sick suddenly and can’t make it, but seeing Missy smile boosts her confidence.  _ I  _ **_can_ ** _ do this,  _ she thinks,  **_everyone_ ** _ gets scared before their first sleepover, yea?  _

She waves and walks up to the front door, where Alyssa stands waiting. “Hi,” Geni says nervously. “I hope I’m not too early?”

Alyssa pulls her into a hug. “No, not at all! Mum and I were just getting all of the activities set up---we’re going to take plushies and cut them up to make other creatures!”

Geni’s smile fades slightly as they pull apart and Alyssa leads her inside to the living room, where she sets her bag down before leading her to the kitchen. Boxes of old plushies, dogs and cats and frogs and unicorns and so many more, too many to name at once, sit on the kitchen table, along with bits of fabric and cotton stuffing, and Alyssa hands Geni a pair of scissors before instructing her to start cutting.

Later in the evening, the five girls sit around the table, awkwardly sewing together frog legs and dog ears and rabbit bodies while Alyssa’s mum instructs them, warning against pricking their fingers. Geni frowns at her creation. A rabbit’s head, horse’s body, and an elephant’s tail stare back at her with frightened, beaded eyes.  _ I wonder if something like this  _ **_really_ ** _ exists, somewhere.  _ She glances round the table and her frown deepens. 

“Are you alright?” Alyssa asks. “Aren’t you having fun?”

Geni forces a smile. “Yeah… yea! I just keep thinking what it’d be like if these were  _ actual  _ animals, like---” she gestures towards one of the other girl’s creations, half-penguin and half giraffe, and says, “ _ that,  _ for example. What would it’s anatomy be like? Would it live in the water or on the land, or both?”

The girls giggle. None of them had thought of it like that, but it makes them feel  _ powerful  _ to imagine sitting in a laboratory, creating new types of animals from spare parts. 

After dinner, they lounge around the living room with popcorn, soft drinks, and various bags of candy littering the floor. On the television, “Aquamarine” plays and they chatter, pushing their chimeras against each other, making up noises for what they  _ could  _ sound like, if they were real.

“Do you think mermaids  _ really  _ exist?” one of them asks. “I mean, they  _ can’t  _ be real---can they? They’re like the easter bunny or the tooth fairy---”

“They might be,” Genevieve cuts in. “Y’ never know… Maybe they’re just not native to earth.” 

The girls laugh. 

“Why’d you say it like that?” Jane’s voice cuts through the noise. “I mean: do you think there are  _ aliens  _ out there, somewhere?”

Genevieve buries her face in Mr. Sky and shrugs. 

Two hours later, after the rest of the girls have crashed from their sugar highs, Geni lays awake, hiding her flashlight and book under her blanket. She squints at the circular symbols, mouthing the words as she does so, but her heart is racing too fast and she cannot focus on what the words sound like, let alone what they mean. Five--no,  _ four.  _ She’d taken  _ four  _ caffeine pills and while that means she’ll avoid her nightmares, it  _ also  _ unfortunately means her entire body is shaking and she feels nauseous. 

“There’s---there’s only a couple hours til sunrise,” she whispers. “I can do this. I  _ can  _ do this! I just… hm.” she shuts her book and carefully untangles herself from her blankets, making sure to not disturb the other girls. 

“We can do this, yeah?” she asks Mr. Sky. She glances towards her new plush and frowns again. “Oh. You’ve got a new sister. I’m not sure how I feel about her,” she picks up both of her plushes and walks to the hallway, where she sits and sets them down in front of her. “I think dad will give her some fancy, scientific name based on her parts and mum will laugh about it, and  _ maybe  _ she’ll freak out Nardole! Ha!”

Geni looks between Mr. Sky and… and… 

“I think I’ll call you  _ Missy…  _ mum’ll like that.”

She taps the rabbit’s nose and giggles.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Looking through old photo albums, Missy relives the horrible day on which Geni was kidnapped.

Eight years ago on this very day, the Braithwaites' lives had been torn apart by someone heartlessly cruel, and the very recollection of it is enough to break Missy’s heart a million times over. Part of her, selfishly, had wanted to say _no_ after Geni asked to attend the sleepover, but _that_ would have been cruel, wouldn’t it have? The girl _needs_ to socialize with other children. 

Missy wipes away a tear as she looks through a photo album of Genevieve’s baby photos, with the horrible _gap_ in them, and she takes a sip from her glass of wine before flipping the page.

Basil sits down next to Missy on their sofa and drapes an arm over her shoulders, presses a kiss to her cheek, and says, “hello, dear.”

“Hello, Basil. Look, here,” she points at one of the pictures, “see? She was so _little_ back then…” the picture shows Missy with baby Geni, no more than a few months old, dressed in a deep purple onesie that matches her mum’s dress. “I used to sing her to sleep every night….”

She shuts her eyes and bites back a cry. 

“Hey,” he rubs gentle circles into her hand. “Hey. We got her back---”

Missy shakes her head, wipes at her eyes, and says, “I failed her, Basil. Our little girl---I _failed_ her…”

“No,” he says, his tone firm. He wraps his arms around her, holds her close, and presses a kiss to the top of her head. “You _didn’t,_ Missy. You _never_ lost hope and you **_never_ ** stopped looking for her.”

Eight years ago, Missy and Basil had taken Genevieve to the park. Grey clouds obscured the sky and a soft breeze carried falling leaves down to them, where they sat under a gazebo, dawning raincoats and boots. 

Genevieve had picked up a small, scraggly tree branch and was pushing it against the wooden floor, scaring away ants and beetles, who did not enjoy finding themselves harassed by a giant creature. “Bah!” she exclaimed. “Bah bah!”

“Let them alone, love,” Missy reached out and carefully took the stick away from her daughter. “Why don’t we go play in the sandbox?”

“San?” Geni asked. “Bug!!”

Smiling, Missy scooped the girl up and stood, balancing her on one hip. “We can look at the bugs _later,_ love. I think it’s best if you get in the sandbox before the rain returns.”

“I concur,” Basil replied. “You take her over there and I’ll catch up in a minute---just need to use the toilet.” He kissed Missy before walking off.

In the sandbox, Geni dug around with both hands, sending dirt and sand flying about everywhere, and Missy laughed as she looked on. “Very nice, love,” she told her. “Just din _nae_ eat it, alright?”

Geni stared down at her tiny fist, now full of sand, and pouting, she let it fall back into the sandbox. Her mum _never_ let her eat sand, or bugs, or any of the other interesting things she found on the ground, and she didn’t yet understand that such things _aren’t_ for eating.

The next moment, Geni started crying and Missy scooped her up again, trying to sooth her, only she _wouldn’t stop crying---_ in retrospect, Missy supposed the girl must have known, must have _seen_ whoever took her---but in that moment, Missy’s attention had rested solely on her daughter. 

They must have been behind her, for she felt a sharp, searing pain in her neck that shot upwards, blacking out her vision, and she collapsed to the hard earth with Genevieve on top of her. And then the weight was gone. She could hear, in the brief moments before she lost consciousness completely, the sound of retreating footsteps and the fading wails of her little girl.

Some time passed before Basil ran over and shook her awake.

“Missy! Missy, wake up,” he said gently. “What happened?”

Slowly, Missy blinked and sat up. Her gaze roamed the playground before she hastened to her feet, seeing no sign of Genevieve. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she stared at him with wide, frightened eyes, saying, “they---they’ve taken her. I didn’t see _who,_ but---but---she’s _gone,_ Basil! She’s **_gone!_ ** What are we going to _do?!”_ Her breaths grew ragged as she paced the playground, scanning for any trace of her daughter, and she walked over to the other parents, asking if they had seen anyone walking off with a little girl, but none of them had, and she grew more and more frantic as the seconds ticked by.

Basil grabbed one of her wrists and cupped her cheek, forcing her to stop and look at him. “We’ll _find her,_ Missy, I _promise._ We’ll find her, but you’re not going to be of _any_ use like this. Let’s contact the authorities and ask the neighbors, and I’m _sure_ we’ll have her back before the day’s end.”

She nodded slowly. “I hope you’re right, Basil. I _really_ do.”

They did not find her.

Not that day.

Not that week.

Not that _month._

Two months in, their friends suggested (and they _tried_ to do so _delicately,_ but none of them could meet her gaze) that they should consider her _dead---_ after all, the likelihood of finding the little girl alive and well was fading with each passing hour, and with no one coming forward with any leads…

Missy yelled at each of them until her voice grew hoarse and tears blurred her vision. They **_would_ ** find her daughter, and she **_would_ **be alive, or else she’d----she’d----

 _I’d burn up_ **_universes_ ** _to find her,_ Missy had thought---the _real_ her, the Time Lady version who would go on to spend **_centuries_ ** searching for her daughter, and if she found her----oh, she would do everything in her power to fix the damage and shower Geni in love and care and only _then,_ once she knew her baby was safe, would she enact her revenge.

Sometimes, the line between the Mistress and Artemis Braithwaite blurs in tangible ways: memories of shooting useless individuals, of assassinating presidents, of _possessing a different body,_ even, will strike her at the oddest of moments---when she’s washing her hair in the morning, or when she’s delivering a lecture, or when Basil tilts his head and stares at her without speaking---and with each piece of the Mistress that bleeds through, Artemis’ blood runs cold.

The years in which she’d fought to get Genevieve back feel like _millenna,_ even though it had not lasted a decade---had it? Sometimes, sometimes… her breaths come in ragged gasps and she shoves the photo album away, letting it crash to the floor, and Basil wraps his arms around her, rubbing a hand against her back and whispering soothingly as she cries.

Her baby, her baby… 

_I’m_ **_so_ ** _sorry, my love! So,_ **_so_ ** _sorry…_

Basil holds her until she cries herself out and she stands, slowly, wipes at her eyes, and without looking at him she says, “I’m going to take a bath… we still have wine, don’t we? Yes, yes…”

He frowns. “Is that a good idea, Missy? I just mean, with your migraines…”

“I’ll be _fine,_ Basil. Need to get out of m’ head, need...need to _try_ and forget, if I can. She’s… she’s just at a sleepover; she’s _fine,_ yea? I need---” she shakes her head slowly and walks into the kitchen, digs through the fridge, and pulls out an unopened bottle of wine. 

“Let me sit with you, at least,” he pleads, wanting to rip the bottle from her grasp. “It’s not good that you should be drinking like this.”

She stares at the sink for a moment. Just _one_ glass, or one _bottle,_ or _two_ bottles, in one afternoon, paired with melon and blueberries, while she is grading, or while she is working on her lesson plans, and then always, _always,_ the inevitable, debilitating pain the next morning as her brain tries to tear its way out through her skull. Sighing, she puts the bottle back in the fridge and heads towards the bathroom.

“I’m _tired,_ Basil,” she tells him, sinking to her knees in front of the bath. “So _very_ tired…” she plugs the tub and turns the hot water on, letting it scald her palm. “Sometimes I want to lay down and never get back up,” she admits in a soft whisper. 

“I’m here for you, Missy,” he whispers. “Anything you need… just let me know.”

Teary-eyed, she replies, “it’s _hard,_ Basil. I look at Geni and see the years we lost, the pain she hides behind her wide smiles, the horrible memories of whatever they did to her, and I dinnae know if I can live with myself…”

Frowning, Basil takes up the body wash and pours some of it into the water, forming bubbles, and he says, “well, Missy… it _wasn’t_ your fault. And there _are_ people you can talk to, people who can _help…”_

He sets the bottle down and turns off the tap.

“Would you sit with me?” she asks, managing to meet his gaze. “I---I don’t want to be alone.”

With a sad smile, he nods. “Of course, Missy. I’m not going anywhere.”

She takes off her shirt before giving him a pointed look, and he hastens to undress as well before sinking into the warm water, not minding the scalding sensation on his skin. Wiping at her eyes, she sinks into the tub, rests her head against his chest, and wraps her arms around him, taking comfort in the warmth of his skin, the warmth of the water, and the tickling of bubbles, and she drifts off into an uneasy sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short interlude from Nardole's POV --- this is and will be the only chapter of this story written in first person.

It’s been nearly three months now, can you believe that? _Three months_ without the **_Master_** lurking about, threatening to kill me just by _looking_ _at me_ (which I **_do_** believe her to be capable of, what with all the highly sophisticated weaponry she has--or, should I say, _had--_ at her disposal). So far, things _aren’t_ what I expected.

Alright. The incident with her student?  _ That  _ I expected, and I’m rather surprised it didn’t happen any sooner. 

I was  _ supposed  _ to work under the Doctor as a PHD candidate pursuing some rather interesting research involving quantum physics, only it seems the university’s offices never received my paperwork, and there are no copies to be found  _ anywhere.  _ In fact, it’s as if they never existed in the first place.

Who could have done  _ that,  _ I wonder? 

Well. I suppose it’s not  _ that  _ much of a big deal, though I  _ am  _ rather disappointed about it all. The Doctor gets to go out, have fun, mould young minds---though, come to think of it, I probably  _ would  _ have ended up pulling schemes on those students, wrangling thousands of pounds from them in some sort of pyramid scheme…

And then there’s  _ Missy. _

So far, no one’s made the connection between her and Mr. Smith, though the Doctor  _ did  _ do a good job of covering it up. Not even the  _ girl _ knows! 

Speaking of, I think she resents me.

Maybe she’s right to. 

After all, I  _ did  _ help Missy and the Doctor come to their arrangement and I’m always spending time in their flat, making sure there’s no foul play going on--- _ and  _ I tend to eat most of their food, it seems. The Doctor’s asked me to stop and  _ Genevieve  _ yelled at me yesterday for eating her chocolates, so now I’ve been banned from stepping foot in their kitchen.

But more than that: I think she feels there’s something  _ missing  _ from her mum.

Missing Missy---hah! I just did an alliteration! 

I suppose it  _ must  _ be hard on her, just as hard as it is on the Doctor, if not more. But it’s not my place to interfere---I drive her to school, I pick her up, and I  _ wanted--- _ **_still_ ** want, even---to see her mum locked up, where she can’t harm anyone anymore. 

The Doctor, sometimes, is simply  _ too  _ trusting!

Standing in my own kitchen now, I grab a beer before heading towards the bathroom and drawing a bath. You don’t need all the details.

Only----

Out of nowhere I hear loud static electricity, the tell-tale sound of someone using a vortex manipulator----someone’s in here with me. This is supposed to be  _ my  _ flat,  **_my_ ** space to go to get away from it all, only someone is in here with me, and when I find them---

I turn round to see  _ her,  _ only it’s  _ not  _ her---well---well---it  _ is  _ her, but  _ not _ the one living across the hall; it’s the  **_real_ ** her, judging by the fury in her gaze and the return of her purple outfit.

“Missy?! What are _you_ doing here? You---you---”

She walks up to me, grabs me by the collars of my shirt, and throws me against the nearest wall, saying, “this is **_my_** story, ye bloody git! You’re just a _footnote,_ if you’re even that; just a passing reference here and there that’ll be forgotten before the reader has even turned the page. So,” she breathes, and I _try_ to turn my gaze away, only she moves one hand to cup my chin and force me to look at her. “There’ll be **_nae more_** of you taking over the narrative, yeah?”

I can only nod. The Doctor will have a  _ field day  _ with this one, he will!

Nervously I try to ask, “b---but---h--h---”

She smiles one of her smiles that screams of _murder._ Oh, I do **_not_** like this! I want to shout for the Doctor, but _something_ in her gaze mutes me---well, that and the finger she presses to my lips---and so I stay as still as I can, lifting my hands into the air to show her I’m not a threat.

I feel like I’m going to throw up and I manage to say as much, and she releases her grip on me. 

After rinsing out my mouth, I stare into the mirror and take several deep breaths.  _ Maybe  _ it was a hallucination.  _ Maybe  _ I’ll go out to grab saltines from the kitchen to find that I’m  _ alone  _ and she was  **_never_ ** here.

Today is  _ not  _ my day.

I find her sitting at my kitchen table, her heels resting on the hardwood, and she’s got one of my knives in one hand, which she’s using to carve a _pear,_ of all things. Huh. The _Doctor_ is **allergic** to pears, though he pretends he just hates them because, apparently, it’s easier to say _‘I hate this,’_ than it is to say, _‘here’s my list of medical conditions, including_ ** _every substance I’m allergic to,’_** though I’ve pointed out to him time and time again that he _needn’t_ reveal his entire medical history---who _asks that_ of a complete stranger?---to which he merely waved me off, saying I simply couldn’t understand him and his Time Lord biology. 

“Missy,” I say, but her gaze is fixed on the pear. 

Delicately, she begins to skin the thing and she licks each piece before slapping it down on the table. Five, I think. Five times she slices off a layer of pear skin only to lick it like a stamp and slap it down on the table. 

I don’t like this at all.

“Sit,” she orders, indicating the open chair. 

Nervously I obey, sitting down opposite her. 

She doesn’t lift her gaze to meet mine---it’s as if I’m  _ unworthy  _ of her time and she won’t stoop so  _ low _ as to look at the likes of  _ me.  _

“Personally, I’ve  _ never  _ been a fan of pears, in part because the Doctor  _ almost died  _ while we were at the Academy---one of our friends  **_dared them_ ** to eat a pear and they, being as careless as they are,  _ accepted the challenge.  _ Oh, I did  _ not  _ want to be the one to clean up that mess.”

I can only stare at her as she takes a loud, messy bite of the pear, and I raise one hand to my throat only she notices and my face grows warm, so I fold my hands in front of me on the table and wait for her to speak.

“Nasty things, pears,” she says, and she cuts off a chunk which she proffers. 

“I’m not hungry,” I reply, shaking my head in what I hope is a polite manner. 

_ “Nonsense!”  _ she replies, shoving the piece against my lips. “You’re a  _ growing boy,  _ aren’t you? Well.” a pout forms on her perfectly painted lips. “I  _ can’t tell,  _ really, what with me being near, oh…  _ three  _ thousand, I think? Dunno. I  _ think  _ it was over a millennia since Genevieve was born, and…” she slams the pear down on the table and produces what I can only assume is a Gallifreyan swear. 

And  _ then  _ she throws her face into her palms and starts to  _ cry.  _

What am I supposed to do with a crying woman?

“Er---” I start, but just as quickly as she’d started crying, she  _ stops  _ crying and turns to glare at me, so I swallow the thought and let her be.

Once she’s gone, I start pacing around the kitchen, trying to determine what I should tell the Doctor---where do I even  _ start?!  _ A  _ future  _ Missy, come back purely to  _ harass me,  _ sat at my kitchen table cutting up  _ pears…  _

Out of curiosity, I try a bite.  _ Not  _ poisoned. They are, however, rather  _ sour,  _ and I breathe a sigh.

I open the door, take a step out into the hallway, and collapse onto the cool, stone floor, growing dead to the world.


	10. Chapter 10

Sometimes after class, students will find the courage to approach either Dr. Braithwaite and ask them questions related to the course material, and they always respond with patience, grace, and smiles, no matter  _ how  _ foolish the question might seem. Poetry and physics  _ do  _ have a tendency to get confusing, after all.

This time, a trio of students approach Missy after her lecture and very earnestly ask whether or not she’s married, and if not, they believe they’ve found the  _ perfect  _ match for her: a professor in the physics department, who tends to go simply by ‘Doctor’ such that they haven’t the  _ slightest  _ idea what his last name might be (it’s not listed on the course syllabus  _ or even in his university email address _ ). He’s tall, middle-aged, and  _ also  _ Scottish, and would counterbalance well with Missy, who is small and accepts no-nonsense, because he  _ lives  _ for corny jokes and a lack of structure. 

“Physics, you say? Huh,” she smiles, bemused. “What’s his name?”

“Uh---well. He only ever goes by ‘Doctor,’” one of them explains. “We don’t really know---it’s not in his emails or on the syllabus, or even on his office door!”

Recognition flashes in her eyes and she tries to hide it by asking, “is that so? Odd. I  _ am  _ intrigued, though.” She leans forward on the podium, her arm propped up such that one hand sits under her chin, and says, “tell me more about him.”

“He’s  _ tall  _ and  _ Scottish  _ and  _ loves  _ to play guitar for us!”

“Guitar?” she echoes (and it sounds rather like  _ gee- _ tar), raising a brow in curiosity. “Oh. So he’s one of those  _ rock-’n’-roll  _ types?”

“Yea!” one of the students, a girl of about twenty, blurts. “Sometimes he’ll even take requests! Of course, he  _ does  _ give regular lectures, but he also lets us listen to music during exams, and---”

The students turn as Missy stares past them. There, entering the room, is Genevieve, dressed in her school uniform and carrying her backpack on one shoulder. She smiles at her mum.

“Hello, love!” Missy steps away from the podium and draws her daughter into a hug. “How was your day?”

“I’m getting bored in History, mum,” Genevieve replies, pulling back. “The teachers have got so much of it **_wrong_** \---I _lived---”_

One of the students clears their throat and the Braithwaites turn towards them. Geni manages an awkward smile while her mum drapes an arm around her shoulder and says, “Ms. Smith, Mr. Stones, Ms. Sage, this is my  _ daughter,  _ Genevieve.”

The girl waves. Meanwhile, Missy’s students turn round and huddle close together, saying, “she has a daughter?  _ That’s  _ new!”

“Do y’ think he’ll  _ still  _ want to be with her?”

Frantically, the third student opens their phone and starts typing out a message, their fingers flying to press the keys.

“We can  _ hear  _ y’ chattering away, ye know,” Missy’s voice cuts in. “Please  _ do  _ tell this ‘Doctor’ that I’m interested in him, and  _ please  _ be kind if you mention my love,” she lifts a hand and squishes her daughter’s cheek. 

Blushing furiously, the trio take their leave.

“Mum,” Geni starts, tilting her head curiously. “What’s going on?”

Missy laughs. “Ah, love. Our students dinnae know that Basil and I are married and they seem to want to hook us up---isn’t that just the  _ funniest thing?” _

Geni laughs as well. “So you’re playing along? That’s cute.”

Fondly, Missy taps her daughter’s nose and says, “no,  _ you’re  _ cute, love. I have one more class before I can leave--are you wanting to sit-in with me?”

“I’d  _ love  _ to! What are you talking about today?”

Missy gathers her things and leads her daughter out of the room, shutting the lights off on the way. “Nothing, actually! There’s an exam, meaning it’ll be quiet for an hour-and-a-half while everyone works…”

In the stairwell, they stop near the windows and watch as snow drifts lazily down, sprinkling the earth in a temporary, soft layer, and Missy shuts her eyes, lifting one hand to rub at her temple. 

In her mind, she can see the glint of twin suns off the snow-covered plains outside the citadel, and a shudder runs down her spine. Cold---so  _ very  _ cold, even with several layers of coats and a thick hat and gloves---and any minute, a  _ storm  _ was due, and someone called out to them, two little boys without a care in the universe, ordering them to come inside before the snow buried them.

“Are you alright, mum?” Geni asks. 

“I---” Missy shakes her head, opens her eyes, and offers a shaky smile. “Just a bit of a headache, but I’m fine. My class is on the  _ fourth  _ floor, so we should get moving.” She continues up the stairs and Geni follows, frowning. 

The Doctor never wears his coat. He  _ must  _ be nearly fifty, or at the youngest forty-five, and yet the winter chill never seems to creep into his bones. The trio of students---Ms. Smith, Mr. Stones, and Ms. Sage---each feel a chill run down their spines as they find him sitting on a metal bench beneath the alcove outside the physics building. 

“Hello!” he exclaims with a smile. “Are the three of you looking to ask about something  _ class-related,  _ or---” he lowers his sunglasses and stares between the three of them. “ah! I can see you’re  _ up to something.” _

Were they  _ that  _ obvious? The trio stare between themselves, none of them wanting to speak first, and so the Doctor takes initiative by pointing at Ms. Sage, who happens to be standing directly in front of him.

“You!” he says. “What’s got you all riled up?”

“Um… well, you know the professor we mentioned the other day? Dr. Braithwaite, specializes in Shakespeare in the English department? She’s interested in going out with you!”

Slowly, a bemused smile creeps over the Doctor’s features. “That so? Well, have you mentioned me to her yet?”

“Just did, actually!” Ms. Smith exclaims. “She--”

“There’s something you should know though,” Ms. Sage cuts in. “She’s got a daughter, about ten, or so?”

“Oh?” the Doctor’s expression shifts. “Funny, that! So do I!” After a moment he asks, “what’s her name?”

“Genevieve, sir.”

The Doctor bites back a wicked grin and raises both eyebrows in mock-surprise. “Really?! You won’t _believe_ this, but that’s _also_ **my** daughter’s name!”

The same student who earlier had frantically texted one of their friends pulls out their phone and hastily sends another message, updating her as to the situation, and after the Doctor clears his throat, the trio take their leave, blushing furiously. 

Later that evening, Basil, Missy, and Geni sit around the kitchen table (Nardole has, unfortunately, fallen suddenly  _ ill  _ and can hardly sit up, the poor thing), laughing and chatting as they eat mashed potatoes and vegetables. Only Basil partakes of the chicken wings (they trigger horrible migraines for Missy, and Geni simply doesn’t care for them), though Nardole would  _ love  _ some, if he were up to it.

“Dear,” Missy starts, shoving a mash of food around on her plate. “Something  _ funny  _ happened to me after my second class today.”

Smiling, Basil tilts his head and asks, “is that so? Same here.”

Geni dips her head and takes up a spoonful of potatoes, hiding her smirk. She  _ told them,  _ several months back, that something like this might happen! 

Missy takes a sip of water before saying, “Some students approached me after class, wanting to set me up with  _ someone  _ in the physics department.”

Basil’s eyes widen. “Oh? Alison Smith, Roy Stones, and Jenna Sage? They approached  _ me,  _ as well, while I was sitting outside--”

“Outside?” Missy echoes. “Were you wearing a  _ coat,  _ at least?”

Warmth creeps over his face and he dips his head, muttering something, and Missy leans in, saying “what was that, dear? I cannae hear you!”

“Nothing, dear.  _ Absolutely  _ nothing! You were saying?”

Geni smirks. So rarely does Basil allow others to see his embarrassment! Seeing him  _ flush  _ and  _ smile  _ makes him just a  _ bit  _ more relatable, as he had seemed so  _ distant  _ when they first met.

“Hm,” Missy leans forward and fondly taps his nose before saying, “They want to  _ set us up,  _ dear. Something about how we’d  _ fit  _ together.”

“Do you think they’ve caught on?” Geni interjects. 

Basil shakes his head. “Not at all! They mentioned  _ you,”  _ he motions towards Genevieve, “and when I said that I  _ also  _ have a daughter named ‘Genevieve,’ they all seemed  _ very  _ surprised!”

The Braithwaite women break out laughing and Basil joins them. Moments like  _ these  _ make it feel more real, like they have been together for two decades and have not spent millennia chasing each other through the galaxies, foiling one another’s wild schemes.

Struggling for breath after a few moments, Missy places a hand on Basil’s arm and gasps, “it was  _ so  _ hard not to smile or laugh or do  _ anything  _ that would indicate we know each other.”

Nodding, Basil replies, “Mr. Stones [texted another girl](https://64.media.tumblr.com/c9e3eb5ea7a539153e540fd7feb287fc/6a3fabc12f7fce33-f6/s500x750/1fa9271f7e0624211d94c6ad1792aa7bfe355eb8.png), Jane Clements---they’re in one of my classes together---and he told her about Genevieve---well. One of them, anyway!”

More laughter fills the kitchen, enveloping them in warmth and love and drowning out the horrid winter chill.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jenna Sage is just trying to get her degree. Physics and English are _not_ her best subjects and so she seeks out help from both the Doctor and Dr. Braithwaite, who have different approaches to dealing with problems.

For Jenna Sage, physics is a horrible, frustrating subject, one she decided to take only after a decent amount of pressure from her father and uncles (who themselves are physicists or chemists or---she isn’t quite sure, but with her parents footing the bill, she supposes it doesn’t matter), and she stands now outside the Doctor’s office door, her gaze flitting back and forth between the sign and her phone.  _ Office hours: 13:30-15:00 T/TR, 15:00-17:00 F.  _

Half-an-hour. Her question shouldn’t take  _ nearly  _ that long, only she hesitates before the closed door, hearing the Doctor talking with  _ someone--- _ a  _ child,  _ it would seem. Hadn’t he mentioned having a daughter?

Her hand hesitates at the door and it opens before she has the chance to act.

The Doctor grins. “Jenna! It’s good to see you--in fact, I was about to send you an email, asking if you could come in so we could discuss your grades…”

Flushing, Jenna dips her head. “Er---I know I haven’t been doing well, Sir, and I---”

“Would you like me to step outside for a moment?” a girl asks, stepping forward to stand beside the Doctor. Funny, that. Her complexion and curls and shining eyes and---isn’t she Dr. Braithwaite’s daughter? 

“Yes, Geni,” the Doctor replies, smiling fondly. “Here,” he reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out some money which he proffers to the girl. “Buy yourself a snack, or a drink, or---well, just don’t tell your mum I let you have as much sugar as you’d like, alright?”

“Right,” she walks off and the Doctor motions Jenna inside.

“I---sorry, Doctor, but---isn’t that Dr. Braithwaite’s daughter?”

He laughs. “Yes, she is! I tutor her in science, sometimes.”

Jenna’s eyes narrow. Right. Tutoring. She dismisses the thought that there had been something  _ familial  _ in the way the pair interacted, as if they’d known each other for  _ years,  _ and steps inside the Doctor’s office.

“I don’t understand  _ any _ of the current course material,” Jenna admits in a whisper. “I’ve  _ tried  _ and  _ tried  _ but simply  **_can’t_ ** wrap my head around it!”

“That’s alright,” the Doctor replies, motioning for her to sit. “Y’know, there’s  _ plenty  _ about you humans that I simply don’t understand, but I’m learning to live with it anyways---wait. Forget what I just said about humans.”

“Um… alright,” Jenna nods. 

Twenty minutes later, Jenna leaves the Doctor’s office and on her way out, she passes Genevieve, who sits in the hallway with a bottle of Coca Cola on the floor beside her, and she waves to get the girl’s attention. “Hello.”

Genevieve quirks a brow. “Hello.”

“You’re---you’re Dr. Braithwaite’s kid, aren’t you?”

The corner of Genevieve’s lips curl up for just a moment, but she bites back the smile and nods. “Yeah, I am. Why do you ask?”

“Well,” Jenna pauses, feeling her face grow warm, “this might sound a bit  _ weird,  _ but my friends and I think that your mum and the Doctor would make a good couple! I mean… with the Doctor being your  _ tutor  _ and everything…”

“You want me to see if I can influence them?”

“Uh…. yes, if you wouldn’t mind.”

After standing, Genevieve replies, “we’ll see what I can do.”

Feeling better than she had before, Jenna walks to Dr. Braithwaite’s office (on Fridays, she holds office hours from 16:30-18:30) and knocks on the door. Her latest essay was  _ not  _ her best work, and she wants to discuss her group project with  _ James,  _ who so far has answered  _ none  _ of her or Alison’s emails---perhaps Dr. Braithwaite will allow them to find a different group partner? Or simply let them work in a group of two. They’re nearly done with the work, after all, and neither of them want to let James slap his name on it.

Dr. Braithwaite opens the door a moment later and smiles, though it is a weary smile which has Jenna considering apologizing.

“Er---I could come back later, if you’d prefer?”

Dr. Braithwaite shakes her head, saying, “it’s fine, Jenna It’s likely m’ head wouldn’t feel any better on any other day, so please,” she sidesteps, gesturing inside, “come in. Have a seat.”

Jenna steps inside and the pair of them sit around Dr. Braithwaite’s cluttered desk: stacks of essays, picture frames with photographs of Dr. Braithwaite and Genevieve, scattered candy wrappers, and a small, ornate pocket watch cover its surface. Dr. Braithwaite scoops the watch up and absent-mindedly fiddles with it.

“What’s on your mind?” she asks.

“I’m having trouble with one of my group partners; he’s not doing  _ any  _ of his fair share, and I’m not sure what to do about it.”

“Hm.” Dr. Braithwaite frowns. “I presume you’ve brought it up to him?”

_ “Several  _ times! But he just laughs it off each time and I don’t know what to do!”

“I  _ might  _ have a solution… but first, I need to know: are you susceptible to hypnosis?”

Jenna blinks. “Um… I’m not sure. My sister was hypnotized at a party, once, but I was too afraid to try it.”

Dr. Braithwaite’s frown shifts into a smile. She holds the watch upright, letting it dangle from the chain, and swings it from side to side, lulling the girl into a trance. “You’re starting to feel relaxed,” she whispers, “take slow, deep breaths. Cast your worries out of your mind---they are, in fact, melting away, and you can no longer feel them. You’re safe here with me.”

Jenna’s chin falls against her chest and she enters a space between waking and sleep, aware only of her professor’s soft, convincing voice. 

“Can you hear me?”

Jenna nods. 

“Good. Now, Jenna, I  _ do  _ think you’re capable of this already, but I need to know: how do you feel about  _ murder?” _

Murder? Sometimes, when James is enough of an asshole, she wants to wrap her hands around his neck until he stops breathing, but she couldn’t  _ actually  _ go through with it---could she? 

“I---I could,” she replies mechanically. “I think---yes. I could.”

She can hear the smile in Dr. Braithwaite’s voice as she says,  _ “good.  _ Now, take my hand,” with her eyes still shut, Jenna grapples blindly on the table until she feels her professor’s cold, smooth hand. “Good. Now: squeeze  _ once  _ if you would prefer a  _ knife  _ and  _ twice  _ if you would prefer  _ poison…  _ you needn’t worry about clean-up,” she assures. “I’ve…. an  _ assistant  _ for that.”

For a moment, Jenna considers squeezing thrice to express her previous passing desire and her mind wanders: when would she do it?  _ Not  _ out in the open, but perhaps during a study session, in the private of one of their flats, she could pretend to kiss him before wrapping her hands around his neck and squeezing until he ran out of air and---

“You’re  _ wandering,  _ dear,” Dr. Braithwaite chided. “Please  _ try  _ to stay focused! I’ll say it again:  _ once  _ if you would prefer a  _ knife  _ and  _ twice  _ if you would prefer  _ poison.” _

Once. She squeezes Dr. Braithwaite’s hand once as a thought enters her mind: that it will feel  _ nice  _ to have warm, sticky blood on her hands, and she hears laughter in her mind, malicious and full. 

“Good. I think you’ll  _ enjoy it,”  _ Dr. Braithwaite pulls her hand away and says, “now, you’re starting to feel more awake, and when you wake up, you won’t remember any of this. You  _ will,  _ however, remember your resolution.”

“I’m going to kill James,” Jenna whispers.

“That you are!” Dr. Braithwaite’s voice is bone-chillingly cheerful. “Now, when I count to  _ five,  _ you’ll wake up… one….” Jenna’s face twitches, “two….” she lifts her head, rolls her neck, and breathes a sigh, “three…” Jenna’s eyes flutter for a moment, “four…” she breathes another sigh, “five.” 

At the final count, Jenna sits upright, blinks a few times, and feels her face grow warm as Dr. Braithwaite stares expectantly at her. 

“You wanted to discuss your last paper, I believe? As I recall, you had a  _ great  _ foundation, but you got lost in the language of some of your sources…”

“Yes! Yes! Let me--let me pull it out…” 

That evening, she approaches James outside his flat and lures him in with the promise of a kiss---he so  _ loves  _ to kiss any pretty girl he comes across, even when they do not feel the same about him---and she drives a knife into his chest, twisting it and tearing his heart into pieces. He gasps and falls to his knees, blood oozing from his wound and onto her hand. Warm. So,  _ so  _ warm. She drives the knife back out and lifts it to her lips, getting a taste of it---thick, and warm, and coppery---and she hears that same malevolent laugh that she’d heard in Dr. Braithwaite’s office. 

She turns him over so he can see her face and  _ know  _ that she means to do this, that he  _ deserves  _ to die for the grief he has given her, and she stabs him again, and again, and again, until her arms grow tired and he lays still, bathed in a pool of his own blood. 

Behind her, a man, his voice low and vaguely familiar, says,  _ “Run.” _

She tucks the knife into her coat pocket and runs blindly, leaving behind the cooling body and the dying shreds of her own innocence.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor confronts Missy about the incident with Jenna and through some subtle manipulation, manages to get her to give him back the watch. Lots of tears, lots of sadness.
> 
> This semester has been kicking my ass, but I'm less than a month away from getting my BA in history!!

Breathless, Nardole pounds on the Braithwaites’ apartment door, hoping the Doctor will answer---and if he is unavailable, he supposes talking to Genevieve would be alright, too, so long as she takes heed of his panicked gaze and bloodied hands and bandaged arm. 

No answer. He knocks again, louder this time, drowning out the thrumming of his heart in his ears, and lets loose a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding as the Doctor opens the door.

“Nardole?” he reaches out, gingerly cradles the man’s bandaged arm in both hands, and asks, “what’s happened?”

“It’s  _ Missy,”  _ he whispers, tilting his head back to stare past the Doctor. “She---she’s  _ back,  _ Sir. I haven’t the foggiest idea  _ how,  _ but she  _ hurt me--” _

“Hurt  _ how?”  _

Casting his gaze to the floor, Nardole admits in a whisper, “she  _ bit  _ me.”

The Doctor raises his eyebrows, bites his lip, and closes the door for a moment, letting out a breath of air which doubtlessly  _ would  _ have been a chuckle---or, full-belly laughter---only he does not want to disturb Genevieve, who  _ should  _ be asleep at this hour, and so he holds back.

“Sir?” Nardole reaches out to open the door but the Doctor blocks him. “This  _ isn’t  _ funny! First there was the incident several weeks ago---I  _ did  _ tell you about that, didn’t I?”

The Doctor opens the door and frowns. “No, you didn’t.  _ What  _ incident?”

“Well, er---I think it was a  _ future  _ version of her, tell the truth. She went on about this being  _ her  _ story and how I shouldn’t interfere….”

The Doctor stares past Nardole for a moment before gesturing with one hand for him to continue.

“Right. She came to me earlier tonight and  _ ordered  _ me to keep an eye on one of your students, a Miss Sage, so I  _ did.  _ It was a bit weird, at first. I followed her to another student’s flat, where things  _ seemed  _ fine until  _ she  _ **stabbed** _ him!” _

The Doctor inhales sharply. “You’re  _ sure  _ it was Jenna Sage?”

“That’s what Missy said, at least!”

A moment passes before the Doctor breathes, “She---didn’t come home tonight. Sent me a message that she’s staying the night on campus as she’s got too much to do.”

Nardole raises a brow and says, “you  _ are  _ going to handle this, aren’t you? If she’s advising her students to  _ murder…” _

The Doctor holds up a finger. “No. We  _ don’t _ know that, Nardole. It… it  _ could’ve _ been a  **_coincidence_ ** _ ,  _ so why don’t you run on home, have a drink or two, and let me worry about this?”

Through gritted teeth, Nardole retorts, “I  _ have  _ the vault ready to go, sir. Perhaps we should  _ utilize  _ it.”

The Doctor shakes his head. “No… no. Only if  _ absolutely necessary,  _ remember? _ ”  _ He shuts the door behind him and leaves Nardole standing there, gaping.

Once on campus, the Doctor hesitates in the TARDIS control room. Should Missy be  _ restored,  _ that will only make this all the more difficult.

He hastens into the English building, passes the glass case full of student and faculty publications, the mural of famous poets, and finally finds the door to her office wide open. A waltz plays off the speakers of her computer. 

“Missy,” he breathes, his hearts thudding in his throat. “Nardole told me that you asked him to follow Miss Sage and that she  _ murdered  _ another student in cold blood. You wouldn’t have had anything to do with this, would you?”

“Oh?” she turns round in her office chair, leans forward, and shuts the music off and she raises her eyebrows, giving a smirk that sends chills down her husband’s spine. “How  _ unfortunate.  _ I always thought she was a nice, if  _ troubled, _ girl…”

His gaze falls to where she absentmindedly fidgets with an ornate pocket watch, the golden surface of which is embossed with her Academy nickname:  _ Koschei Oakdown.  _ The Doctor had hidden that in the TARDIS wardrobe, he had. No one had seen him do it, unless-- _ well.  _ Like mother, like daughter.

“Where’d you get that?” he asks. He shuts the door behind him, sits opposite her, and takes hold of her wrist. “You weren’t supposed to find this---oh.  _ No,”  _ He shakes his head, his eyes growing wide, and bites back a wave of bile, horrified once again by the thought that he had been  _ wrong,  _ that the Master, once evil, would  _ always  _ **_be_ ** evil. 

“M’ love pointed it out to me. Said it was a family heirloom and that I should open it at once---I still  _ haven’t.  _ Seems to be broken. But…. it speaks to me,  _ Doctor.  _ Tells me that  _ this,”  _ she gestures to herself,  _ “ _ **_isn’t_ ** who I really am; that there’s a part of me held in this watch, my  _ Time Lord essence,  _ and if I could only get it to  _ open…” _

“Missy,” he breathes, “Please. Please. Just… give that to me. This isn’t right. It’s too soon.”

She tilts her head to one side, fixes him with a piercing gaze, and spits,  _ “nae.  _ You’ve been  _ hiding  _ this from me, and I’ve the right to know  **_why.”_ **

He frowns and stares past her, tracing the movement of a spider across the wall, up and down and over, weaving its web while it hunts for food, and he wonders how many times they’ll have to have  _ this  _ conversation. How many times will he ask her,  _ what have you done?  _ **_Why_ ** _ have you done it? _

**_When_ ** _ will all this  _ **_stop?_ **

He gasps. Oh, the very  _ thought  _ of pressing this issue makes his stomach churn, but if he can successfully appeal to her emotional side, push the sense of  _ regret _ she was doubtlessly feeling…

“Geni. You said---you  _ said,  _ Geni gave you that watch. But that begs the question:  _ when _ did you lose her?” He tightens his hold on her wrist and forces her to meet his gaze.  _ “She  _ was three, but  _ you _ were much, much older, weren’t you?”

“I...” she shakes her head and blinks back tears. “I  **know** it was  _ seven _ years, but it  **_feels_ ** more like a  _ thousand _ ... but that’s not possible, is it? It... cannae be.” She swallows. “It was seven years.”

Sadly, Basil shakes his head. “No, Missy, it wasn’t.” 

He holds his free hand out expectantly.

“Give me the watch and I can take away the weight of that millennium.”

Tears fall down her cheeks as  **guilt** settles in her stomach and throat, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand up. She takes her glasses off, tosses them onto her desk, and doubles over, mourning and regretting and raging over what had happened, as it  _ had  _ been  _ her  _ fault---if she hadn’t been so careless, if she’d kept a tighter hold on her daughter…

“It hurts, doesn’t it?” Basil asks, shifting to stand beside her. He wraps his arms around her, presses a kiss to the top of her head, and runs a hand through her curls. “It… _doesn’t have to,_ Missy. We’ve got therapy tomorrow and I can clear up the mess with Jenna, and we _can_ be **_okay._** I just…” he sighs. “I need you to _trust_ _me_ and give me back the watch.”

Seconds drag into minutes as she cries herself out.

To quell the ache in his hearts, he holds her tighter, sending her a psychic message to say, _it’s alright, I’m_ _here…_

Finally, she wipes at her nose with one sleeve, takes a deep, shuddering breath, and hands the watch over, saying, “I  _ want _ to  **forget,** Basil… everyone she’s  _ hurt,  _ everything she’s---I’ve---oh!” she bursts out sobbing again.

He shuffles the watch  _ deep  _ into his bigger-on-the-inside coat pocket before tightening his grip on her, letting her cry until finally, in a quavering voice, she asks, “how-- _ how _ can you take it away? The… the memories?”

Basil draws back, gently cradles her face in both hands, and says, “quite easily, dear. In fact, I’ve---done it before,” he admits. “Do you trust me?”

She nods. “Always.”

Basil nods and then nudges the pieces of the Mistress from Artemis’ mind: the destruction, the death, the utter  _ chaos  _ of a Time Lady desperate for attention; but he hesitates before nudging away the  _ true  _ circumstances of Genevieve’s kidnapping. With the guilt weighing down on her, she would likely be more cooperative and less willing to open the watch and reclaim that facet of her identity…

Out of a mixture of pity and compassion, he grants her the shortened weight of seven years.

“Let’s go home,” he says, helping her stand. “You can have some wine, take a bath, go to sleep…”

He takes her home in the TARDIS, letting her doze in the pilot’s chair.

The next morning, they walk into the counselling center holding hands and settle in a pair of armchairs. She leans into him, her left eye shut beneath her glasses. Yesterday, she spoke with a few students, advising them as how to move forward as the semester drew to a close, and then…  _ then…  _ she remembered, briefly, sitting in the tub, feeling sick with regret, and then---

“Mr. and Mrs. Braithwaite?” a woman calls. “I’m ready for you.”

They follow her down the hallway, around one of the corners, and into a small office, furnished with a plush blue sofa opposite a tall, leather armchair. Above the desk (which is tucked into one corner) sits a small window, its curtains pulled open. Finally, the woman introduces herself, “I’m Dr. Edison---you can call me Mary.”

They nod and step inside, where they settle onto the sofa, still holding fast to one another. Dr. Edison grabs a notebook off her desk before sitting opposite them.

“Now… Artemis and Basil?”

“Missy,” Missy corrects. “I almost  _ never  _ go by the full thing.”

Dr. Edison nods and jots something down. “Noted! Now, we have a few things to discuss: first, what’s brought you in today?”

Missy and Basil exchange glances. “Um---there are a few things.” He nods and she continues, “our baby was kidnapped eight years ago, and I…. I hold  _ myself  _ responsible for it. She’s… we got her back, but she’s… scarred.”

Dr. Edison exchanges a glance with Basil before meeting Basil’s gaze and saying, “I doubt very much that it was  _ your  _ fault, Missy. People can be cruel, and I’m very sorry that happened to you.”

An hour later, drained from confronting themselves, the Braithwaites return home to an empty flat. Basil offers to make pancakes, or pasta, or perhaps even  _ cake,  _ but Missy refuses, claiming she hasn’t the appetite. 

She shuffles into their bedroom, changes into sweatpants and a wool sweater, and crawls into bed, where she buries herself under the covers and hugs a pillow to her chest. 

Basil tiptoes into the room and settles on the bed beside her. “Missy, I’m here, if… if you need anything…”

She turns and reaches out, drawing him towards her. Taking the hint, he lays down, wraps his arms around her, and buries his face in her hair.


End file.
